Howdy. I think the International Committee of the Red Cross set a new speed record for international mail with my rejection letter. My application package made the trip to Geneva, Switzerland and back to St. Louis in roughly eight days, thus releasing hydrocyanide gas into the box containing the humanitarian cat.
I got the news when I was in Kansas City helping my best friend, Wes, and his new wife, Jess, move into their new house. I couldn't be happier for them because I know that's what they've been working toward: the ultimate symbol of stability, comfort, and security. It's the American Dream, man! They've arrived! I have to say though, that all the "30 YEARS of payments" and "We're never moving again!" talk made my stomach flip!
It's so strange that even after my vagabondery and my newfound respect for having a home base, I still had that primal gut reaction. My instinct tells me that, under those circumstances, one necessarily limits their opportunity to experience new things and facilitates falling into a rut. Where did I get the perception that one moment a person makes that commitment and the next moment he wakes up elderly, wondering where life got off to and why he didn't experience all he'd wanted to? Why has it been my basic assumption that any security or stability is an illusion and that to embrace it is self delusion?
Three weeks ago, I flew to Philadelphia to interview for a sales position with a world renowned aviation safety consulting firm. In the week prior to the interview I had done everything I could think of to prepare. I studied the company website, re-read industry association websites, and wrote out and practiced answers to possible interview questions. I'd already had two phone interviews, but I figured this interview would go into still greater depth in order to make a final decision.
It wasn't more than two minutes after shaking hands with the CEO when he said, "Well, I wouldn't have brought you all the way out here if I wasn't pretty interested in bringing you on board, so if you're still interested, let's talk about money!" For some reason, that was the one question I hadn't prepared for! It hadn't even occurred to me that I might be offered the position on the spot, but we came to an agreement on salary and benefits and agreed that I'd start in two weeks.
I was really glad I'd gone to Kansas City earlier in the summer and sorted through all my stuff and moved everything that was worth keeping from mom's house to St. Louis. Having accomplished that, I was able to pack all of my earthly belongings into three rubbermaid tubs, three cardboard boxes, two duffel bags, a laptop bag, and a guitar case.
Since all that was more or less taken care of, I was able to spend the next two weeks searching Craigslist for a place to sleep in the Philadelphia area, selling my 20 year old car and my 4 month old laptop on eBay, and researching public transportation between Philadelphia and Palmyra, New Jersey, where my new office is located. The transportation was much more difficult than I had anticipated. I ended up finding a place with roommates in North East Philly, about five miles from the office. To get there using public transportation would take at least an hour and a half utilizing three different transportation systems (SEPTA, PATCO, and NJ Transit). Luckily, I've been able to car pool most of the time with roommates and coworkers. I'm also planning on moving over to Palmyra as soon as possible so I'll be able to walk to work.
I got to Philly the Thursday before I started my new job. Leeanne, one of my new roommates met me at the airport and then we met up with Sean, her boyfriend and my other housemate and went out for a very nice barbecue dinner. Yep. No cheese steaks to get in the Philly state of mind. We went straight to Famous Dave's BBQ (which also has a location in Kansas City).
I spent the rest of the weekend buying respectable clothes (since I've been living in flip flops, shorts, and silly T-shirts for the last 8 months), and taking wrong SEPTA busses into shady parts of town late at night. At one point, I actually decided it was a better bet to accept a ride from strangers than to continue occupying a particular street corner/bus stop. The couple had actually given me directions a little earlier as they waited for their Chinese takeout. Apparently, after thinking about where they had sent me, they decided they didn't want my fate on their collective conscience.
Friday marked the end of the first forty-hour work week I've ever spent in an office, and it really wasn't all that bad. I think I'm really going to enjoy learning everything about this business and then teaching others about what we do. It's been great having the mental stimulation and human interaction again.
I just re-read "The Unbearable Lightness of Being," by Milan Kundera. In the opening, he writes hypothetically about a concept attributed to Nietzsche called "eternal return" by which everything we do in our lives recurs ad infinitum.
"Putting it negatively, the myth of eternal return states that a life which disappears once and for all, which does not return is like a shadow, without weight, dead in advance, and whether it was horrible, beautiful, or sublime, its horror, sublimity, and beauty mean nothing...
If every second of our lives recurs an infinite number of times, we are nailed to eternity as Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross. It is a terrifying prospect. In the world of eternal return the weight of unbearable responsibility lies heavy on every move we make. That is why Nietzsche called the idea of eternal return the heaviest of burdens...
The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.
Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant..."
I realized that Wes and Jess's recent marriage and home acquisition were heavy because from my perspective, our lives are our eternity, and committing yourself to doing the same thing every day is like creating a miniature eternal return. I also realized that I'd always assumed lightness to be the positive and heaviness the negative. I guess I've realized that's not necessarily the truth. I've always been "as free as I am insignificant," and I've realized that my friends are just embracing the positive aspects of heaviness and that there's nothing illusory or delusional about doing that.
I still don't think I could totally embrace heaviness, though, so I think I'm going to shoot for "buoyancy."
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
But They're All Hip
Howdy. I hope all is well with everyone. I’m still unemployed in St. Louis. Yesterday, I googled the airline whose hiring pool I supposedly occupy. In doing so, I discovered they have suspended flights in New Mexico because they haven’t been paid by one of the cities they service. Needless to say, I’m not expecting a call from them this week.
My ambitions have sort of turned a corner. I realized that I could manage a Kwik Shop and make more than what I would as a pilot for a regional airline. This epiphany was extremely liberating. I realized that I could do whatever I wanted and it wouldn’t affect my immediate financial situation in the slightest. What’s more, with my background in sales and aviation (not to mention accomplishments related to peripheral interests and hobbies), there are a lot of things I could do where I would earn significantly more than I would as a pilot. Also, if I ever want to go back to flying full time, I’ll be in exactly the same spot I am now: needing multi time. After obtaining the twin time, I’d be current again and ready to go. Frankly, I don’t miss flying every day. Sad to say, but it’s true.
One of the more larkish things I’ve done lately was to apply to be a delegate of the International Committee of the Red Cross. If by some miracle I were to be accepted, I would be responsible for interviewing prisoners of war and inspecting the prisons in which they are held. My friend, Erica, having heard of the gig by virtue of her being goddess of foreign affairs and general intellectual diva, encouraged me to apply. The only stated requirements are proficiency in French and English, willingness to travel, and passion for human rights.
Completing the application process was a fantastic reawakening of a version of myself that I had all but forgotten. In rewriting my resume to include all the warm fuzzy things I’ve done for others (had to dig a bit to remember those…) and in writing the “Why I Want To Be A Delegate” cover letter, I was forced to remember the version of me with foreign language and interpersonal skills; the version who thought maybe he could do something with a direct human impact.
Thus was born my humanitarian alter ego. That’s how I’ve taken to viewing myself; as a collection of identities, only one of which will survive. Who will it be? Adam the pilot? Adam the aerospace sales big shot? Adam the international humanitarian aid worker? Adam the guitar shop guy? Adam the barista? Adam the street musician?
It's as if each of these identities is one of Shrodinger's Cats, locked in an atomic death box (or a basement), alive and dead at the same time, until fate has made its choice and the box is opened.
My ambitions have sort of turned a corner. I realized that I could manage a Kwik Shop and make more than what I would as a pilot for a regional airline. This epiphany was extremely liberating. I realized that I could do whatever I wanted and it wouldn’t affect my immediate financial situation in the slightest. What’s more, with my background in sales and aviation (not to mention accomplishments related to peripheral interests and hobbies), there are a lot of things I could do where I would earn significantly more than I would as a pilot. Also, if I ever want to go back to flying full time, I’ll be in exactly the same spot I am now: needing multi time. After obtaining the twin time, I’d be current again and ready to go. Frankly, I don’t miss flying every day. Sad to say, but it’s true.
One of the more larkish things I’ve done lately was to apply to be a delegate of the International Committee of the Red Cross. If by some miracle I were to be accepted, I would be responsible for interviewing prisoners of war and inspecting the prisons in which they are held. My friend, Erica, having heard of the gig by virtue of her being goddess of foreign affairs and general intellectual diva, encouraged me to apply. The only stated requirements are proficiency in French and English, willingness to travel, and passion for human rights.
Completing the application process was a fantastic reawakening of a version of myself that I had all but forgotten. In rewriting my resume to include all the warm fuzzy things I’ve done for others (had to dig a bit to remember those…) and in writing the “Why I Want To Be A Delegate” cover letter, I was forced to remember the version of me with foreign language and interpersonal skills; the version who thought maybe he could do something with a direct human impact.
Thus was born my humanitarian alter ego. That’s how I’ve taken to viewing myself; as a collection of identities, only one of which will survive. Who will it be? Adam the pilot? Adam the aerospace sales big shot? Adam the international humanitarian aid worker? Adam the guitar shop guy? Adam the barista? Adam the street musician?
It's as if each of these identities is one of Shrodinger's Cats, locked in an atomic death box (or a basement), alive and dead at the same time, until fate has made its choice and the box is opened.
Monday, July 04, 2005
Culminations
Howdy. So all of my studying and simulator preparation was for naught with regards to Airnet. I totally choked on the simulator check. I won’t bore you with details of fire and twisted metal, but they didn’t waste any time in sending me an “I don’t even think we could train you after the way you flew that simulator!!” letter. I still can’t believe how badly it went. Maybe it was just delusions of grandeur, but I really thought I had prepared myself well. I mean, ALL I’d done for almost two weeks was study and prep in the simulator. I wouldn’t have hired me either, though. That’s the tough part. I know how poorly I performed. What a blow.
A day after returning from Ohio, glad to have the distraction from the Airnet debacle, I caught a flight to DFW. The principal reason for the trip was to go to Las Cruces, NM for another job interview, but my best friend, Todd and his wife Cynthia had just had a baby boy, in Fort Hood, TX and my friends Josh and Maria from Panther City Coffee in Fort Worth were getting married. So all things considered, Texas was the place to be last weekend!
Seeing the offspring of a lifelong friend could only be described as life altering. Little Richard (the baby, not the singer) was truly beautiful. All the clichés about babies came to my heart and mind as if I were the first one to think and feel them. All the potential I was holding in my arms! All the beautiful innocence of that child! He doesn’t know the difference between rich and poor, Republican and Democrat, gay and straight, or Christian and Muslim. He gave me hope.
After a couple of days of oogling the mini-Todd, I headed back up to Fort worth for the wedding. I should say that Josh and Maria are not your average couple. They are way cooler than average. And as such, their wedding was way cooler than average. I just saw an editorial in the paper today about how insane and commercialized weddings have gotten and I laughed. I laughed because I’d just been to a wedding that was beautiful not for the flower arrangements or the bridesmaids dresses or the country club reception, but for the evidence of the purest love that can exist between two people. Perhaps it was because the ceremony took place in the loft of a coffee shop, or because the groom was wearing flip flops that all there was to witness was the event of two people proclaiming their rock solid, eternal love for each other. And that was way more beautiful than some prefab fairy tale concoction. It gave me hope as well.
Soon after the wedding, I was off to the Las Cruces for my other interview. I was the only passenger on the flight (which was operated by the company with which I was about to interview) from Albuquerque to Las Cruces. The captain and FO were very friendly, and even gave me a headset so we could all chat en-route. After getting the low down from the pilots, I was actually still excited about the prospect of working there. Lots of pilots are grumpy and bitter, but these guys actually seemed to enjoy their jobs. In my view, that says a lot. The chief pilot, who would be conducting the interview, called up while we were cruising along and, not knowing that I had a headset, asked the captain to “feel [me] out.” He was speechless when informed that I was listening in, except to say that he would be arriving a couple hours after we would.
After traveling all day, and sitting around for a couple hours waiting at the airport, I finally met with Bill, the chief pilot at about 5:30 pm. The offices were in an un-air-conditioned hangar and subdivided by plastic sheeting and 2x2’s. I felt like I was in a military field hospital. I think he asked me three questions…
“Do I have your resume?”
“What Airplanes have you flown?” and,
“What are your career goals?”
It was the only job interview I’ve ever had where the interviewer groaned and took off his cowboy boots in the middle and asked me to step out so he could change clothes. It was really damned hot in that hangar, though.
After he changed and joined me in the lounge out by the swamp coolers, I asked a couple questions that hadn’t been answered by the pilots. He offered me the number six spot in their hiring pool, which means that they’re not hiring me right now, but as openings become available, I’ll supposedly be the sixth pilot they call.
Better than nothing, I guess.
A day after returning from Ohio, glad to have the distraction from the Airnet debacle, I caught a flight to DFW. The principal reason for the trip was to go to Las Cruces, NM for another job interview, but my best friend, Todd and his wife Cynthia had just had a baby boy, in Fort Hood, TX and my friends Josh and Maria from Panther City Coffee in Fort Worth were getting married. So all things considered, Texas was the place to be last weekend!
Seeing the offspring of a lifelong friend could only be described as life altering. Little Richard (the baby, not the singer) was truly beautiful. All the clichés about babies came to my heart and mind as if I were the first one to think and feel them. All the potential I was holding in my arms! All the beautiful innocence of that child! He doesn’t know the difference between rich and poor, Republican and Democrat, gay and straight, or Christian and Muslim. He gave me hope.
After a couple of days of oogling the mini-Todd, I headed back up to Fort worth for the wedding. I should say that Josh and Maria are not your average couple. They are way cooler than average. And as such, their wedding was way cooler than average. I just saw an editorial in the paper today about how insane and commercialized weddings have gotten and I laughed. I laughed because I’d just been to a wedding that was beautiful not for the flower arrangements or the bridesmaids dresses or the country club reception, but for the evidence of the purest love that can exist between two people. Perhaps it was because the ceremony took place in the loft of a coffee shop, or because the groom was wearing flip flops that all there was to witness was the event of two people proclaiming their rock solid, eternal love for each other. And that was way more beautiful than some prefab fairy tale concoction. It gave me hope as well.
Soon after the wedding, I was off to the Las Cruces for my other interview. I was the only passenger on the flight (which was operated by the company with which I was about to interview) from Albuquerque to Las Cruces. The captain and FO were very friendly, and even gave me a headset so we could all chat en-route. After getting the low down from the pilots, I was actually still excited about the prospect of working there. Lots of pilots are grumpy and bitter, but these guys actually seemed to enjoy their jobs. In my view, that says a lot. The chief pilot, who would be conducting the interview, called up while we were cruising along and, not knowing that I had a headset, asked the captain to “feel [me] out.” He was speechless when informed that I was listening in, except to say that he would be arriving a couple hours after we would.
After traveling all day, and sitting around for a couple hours waiting at the airport, I finally met with Bill, the chief pilot at about 5:30 pm. The offices were in an un-air-conditioned hangar and subdivided by plastic sheeting and 2x2’s. I felt like I was in a military field hospital. I think he asked me three questions…
“Do I have your resume?”
“What Airplanes have you flown?” and,
“What are your career goals?”
It was the only job interview I’ve ever had where the interviewer groaned and took off his cowboy boots in the middle and asked me to step out so he could change clothes. It was really damned hot in that hangar, though.
After he changed and joined me in the lounge out by the swamp coolers, I asked a couple questions that hadn’t been answered by the pilots. He offered me the number six spot in their hiring pool, which means that they’re not hiring me right now, but as openings become available, I’ll supposedly be the sixth pilot they call.
Better than nothing, I guess.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Still Vagging the Bond!
Howdy. So it turns out that sailing isn’t an activity I’ll be satisfied with doing just once. I had a blast learning the basics on the Hunter 30. It had been a while since I’d had someone yelling at me to “Watch your heading!” while I was trying to do three other things. My instructor was a retired pilot and flight instructor with over 11,000 hours in airplanes, so at least we spoke the same language. From camber and angle of attack, to all the navigation stuff, I thought it was pretty interesting how many concepts and terms transfer from flying to sailing. I still felt like I was learning a whole new language while dealing with the sails. I never knew there were so many different names for “Rope.”
It felt great to be out on the water though, and in my opinion, being close hauled and healed over is the most exhilaration you can get at five knots. I kept having to remind myself of how slow we were actually going because it felt like things were happening as fast as on an airplane. The scale and pace of sailing really sank in when toward the end of the day, we were 4 nautical miles from the canal and I realized that it would take almost an hour to get there! Hey, if you want to get there quickly, take a plane.
I feel like I’m sort of back in the real world now. I’m renting my sisters basement in St. Louis while preparing for job interviews. I actually have a couple! My second day on the beach, I got a call from Airnet, a cargo company based in Ohio. Of course, my phone was in the car! I finally had a phone interview with them a few days later and found out last Wednesday that they wanted me to come in for the full interview. Later that day, I was also invited by Westward Airways to go to their base in Las Cruces, NM for an interview.
If I got on with Airnet, I’d be flying cargo four nights a week in a piston powered twin or a single engine Cessna Caravan turboprop. The position with Westward would be Second in Command of a Pilatus PC-12 (nine passenger single engine turboprop) carrying passengers around the southwest.
I really hope I don’t screw up these interviews. I’ve been studying hard and have set up a few lessons in the same model simulator used in the Airnet interview. Westward doesn’t have a simulator and they’re a new operation, so I’m really kind of lost as to how to prepare for that one. The Chief Pilot made it sound like he was just going to look at my logbook and ask about my goals etc. I guess we’ll see.
I still have almost a week before the Airnet interview in Ohio and almost two weeks before the one with Westward. In between the two (on the way from one to the other, in fact), I'm returning to the great state of Texas to see Todd and Cynthia's new (as yet unborn) baby. I'm also looking forward to seeing all of my Fort Worth friends at Josh and Maria's wedding.
You didn't think I'd stop traveling just because I'm unemployed, did you?
It felt great to be out on the water though, and in my opinion, being close hauled and healed over is the most exhilaration you can get at five knots. I kept having to remind myself of how slow we were actually going because it felt like things were happening as fast as on an airplane. The scale and pace of sailing really sank in when toward the end of the day, we were 4 nautical miles from the canal and I realized that it would take almost an hour to get there! Hey, if you want to get there quickly, take a plane.
I feel like I’m sort of back in the real world now. I’m renting my sisters basement in St. Louis while preparing for job interviews. I actually have a couple! My second day on the beach, I got a call from Airnet, a cargo company based in Ohio. Of course, my phone was in the car! I finally had a phone interview with them a few days later and found out last Wednesday that they wanted me to come in for the full interview. Later that day, I was also invited by Westward Airways to go to their base in Las Cruces, NM for an interview.
If I got on with Airnet, I’d be flying cargo four nights a week in a piston powered twin or a single engine Cessna Caravan turboprop. The position with Westward would be Second in Command of a Pilatus PC-12 (nine passenger single engine turboprop) carrying passengers around the southwest.
I really hope I don’t screw up these interviews. I’ve been studying hard and have set up a few lessons in the same model simulator used in the Airnet interview. Westward doesn’t have a simulator and they’re a new operation, so I’m really kind of lost as to how to prepare for that one. The Chief Pilot made it sound like he was just going to look at my logbook and ask about my goals etc. I guess we’ll see.
I still have almost a week before the Airnet interview in Ohio and almost two weeks before the one with Westward. In between the two (on the way from one to the other, in fact), I'm returning to the great state of Texas to see Todd and Cynthia's new (as yet unborn) baby. I'm also looking forward to seeing all of my Fort Worth friends at Josh and Maria's wedding.
You didn't think I'd stop traveling just because I'm unemployed, did you?
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Just Call Me Steve Zissou
Howdy. A lone sail peaks up from the panoramic horizon as peaceful little waves break in a continuous hiss on the beach before me. I lick my lips and taste salt. I’d never swum in the sea until a few moments ago. A small boy in a red and blue wet suit finds a treasure in every seashell. His mother attempts to match his enthusiasm as he offers them up to her, but fails. And so he chucks each prize back into the sea.
As of today, I’m no longer gainfully employed. In my final few days on the job, I left Michigan to do a few hours of mapping in Louisville, KY. I had no idea! That place is almost as hip and weird as Madison, WI. Bardstown Road very much reminds me of State Street in Madison.
A very serious looking man in socks and sneakers passes in front of me waving a metal detector over the sand. Another man asks if he’s ever found anything good, to which he responds that he’s just recently purchased the device. However, to demonstrate its effectiveness, he reaches into his pocket, tosses a coin on the beach, and waves the sensor over the coin. He points at the display and the other man gives an affirming nod with the up-side-down smile that says, “huh… not bad!” As the treasure hunter sweeps his way further down the beach, the inquisitor doubles over with laughter as he recounts the exchange to his wife.
From Louisville, I made my way to Kissimmee, Florida via good ol’ Athens, Georgia. None of my Athens friends were in town due to it being Memorial Day weekend, so I made some new ones at a five-star establishment called “The Taco Stand.” They were serving very inexpensive Anti-Grandma Juice ($4 pitchers of Amber Bock!!) so I stayed a while (all evening).
The next day, I had a beautiful flight down the Atlantic Coast of Florida to Kissimmee, which is just south of Orlando. After settling in and realizing why Bob Schneider found the place so depressing (all the kitsch of Branson, Missouri, but on a much larger scale… and Disney-fied…), I heard a familiar voice; the one that often leads me into trouble and adventure that I’ve previously referred to as “THE DEVIL!”
“So Adam, you’re in Floooorida…” His tone seemed innocent enough.
“Yeah… So?”
“So you’re really close to two very large bodies of water…” I could tell where this was going. “You should go take a sailing lesson!”
I didn’t even argue with him this time. He was obviously right. When else am I going to be down here and have a chance to go out on the open water on a big sailboat? So I decided to postpone my return to Kansas City until Saturday. This afternoon I headed for the Gulf Coast based on the recommendation of a man at a local lunch counter. He suggested I go to Long Boat Key near Sarasota if I wanted to find a nice beach. I wish I could thank him because it’s unbelievable here.
My day-long intro to sailing is billed as the “Like a Virgin” course by Wind Song Charters in St. Petersburg. (Insert your own punch line here) I’ve got that set up for Friday and I can hardly wait.
In the mean time, I think I’ll look for one of those red and blue wet suits.
As of today, I’m no longer gainfully employed. In my final few days on the job, I left Michigan to do a few hours of mapping in Louisville, KY. I had no idea! That place is almost as hip and weird as Madison, WI. Bardstown Road very much reminds me of State Street in Madison.
A very serious looking man in socks and sneakers passes in front of me waving a metal detector over the sand. Another man asks if he’s ever found anything good, to which he responds that he’s just recently purchased the device. However, to demonstrate its effectiveness, he reaches into his pocket, tosses a coin on the beach, and waves the sensor over the coin. He points at the display and the other man gives an affirming nod with the up-side-down smile that says, “huh… not bad!” As the treasure hunter sweeps his way further down the beach, the inquisitor doubles over with laughter as he recounts the exchange to his wife.
From Louisville, I made my way to Kissimmee, Florida via good ol’ Athens, Georgia. None of my Athens friends were in town due to it being Memorial Day weekend, so I made some new ones at a five-star establishment called “The Taco Stand.” They were serving very inexpensive Anti-Grandma Juice ($4 pitchers of Amber Bock!!) so I stayed a while (all evening).
The next day, I had a beautiful flight down the Atlantic Coast of Florida to Kissimmee, which is just south of Orlando. After settling in and realizing why Bob Schneider found the place so depressing (all the kitsch of Branson, Missouri, but on a much larger scale… and Disney-fied…), I heard a familiar voice; the one that often leads me into trouble and adventure that I’ve previously referred to as “THE DEVIL!”
“So Adam, you’re in Floooorida…” His tone seemed innocent enough.
“Yeah… So?”
“So you’re really close to two very large bodies of water…” I could tell where this was going. “You should go take a sailing lesson!”
I didn’t even argue with him this time. He was obviously right. When else am I going to be down here and have a chance to go out on the open water on a big sailboat? So I decided to postpone my return to Kansas City until Saturday. This afternoon I headed for the Gulf Coast based on the recommendation of a man at a local lunch counter. He suggested I go to Long Boat Key near Sarasota if I wanted to find a nice beach. I wish I could thank him because it’s unbelievable here.
My day-long intro to sailing is billed as the “Like a Virgin” course by Wind Song Charters in St. Petersburg. (Insert your own punch line here) I’ve got that set up for Friday and I can hardly wait.
In the mean time, I think I’ll look for one of those red and blue wet suits.
Friday, May 20, 2005
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