The Silicone Oil Has Left the Building

This morning, I had the silicone oil removed from my eye—the same stuff that's been hanging out in there since my retinal surgery in February 2026.

Six months. Apparently it had finally overstayed its welcome.

The procedure required anesthesia, which means they put me to sleep, did whatever horrifying eye-related things I'm very happy I didn't witness, and woke me back up.

Now I'm home.

I'm still a little anesthesia drunk, my eye is recovering, and I'm officially a pirate.

🏴‍☠️👁️

All I need now is a parrot, a questionable treasure map, and someone to explain why the room occasionally feels like it's moving.

For today, however, the plan is simple: rest, recover, and make absolutely no major financial decisions until the anesthesia wears off.

The silicone oil era is officially over.

The Hinge Experiment: Kelli Is Out, Gina Is Alive, and Who Is “Missing Me”?

Another day, another update from The Hinge Experiment™.

We have movement.

We have casualties.

We have new contestants.

And I still have absolutely no idea how modern dating works.

Kelli Has Left the Building

Let's begin with Kelli.

I unmatched her.

I tried.

I asked questions. I tried to start conversations. I suggested getting together. I even gave her my Google Voice number.

The baseball game is officially over.

She struck out.

Or I struck out.

Maybe everyone struck out.

Either way, she has my number. If she suddenly wakes up one morning and thinks:

"You know who I really need to talk to? That bald guy who kept asking me actual questions."

She knows how to reach me.

Do I expect that to happen?

No.

But I've been wrong before.

Meanwhile... Gina!

Remember Gina?

Match Number Two?

SHE SENT ME A MESSAGE TODAY!

That's right.

An unsolicited communication!

I didn't have to poke the conversation with a stick to see if it was still alive.

She sent a message.

I responded.

And now we'll see what happens.

At this point, my expectations have been recalibrated to the point that receiving a message on a dating app feels like winning a scratch-off ticket.

I'm not buying a yacht yet, but...

WE HAVE COMMUNICATION!

And Then There's “Missing Me”

We also have Match Number Three.

Her name—or at least her Hinge name—is:

“Missing Me.”

Okay.

That's mysterious.

She asked me:

“How was your weekend?”

Now THAT is a question.

A real question!

Something I can answer!

So naturally, because I apparently don't understand the concept of brevity, I wrote a freaking diatribe.

I told her about going to New York City.

The trip.

What I did.

What happened.

Basically, she asked how my weekend was, and I responded as if she had commissioned an autobiographical essay.

But here's the thing:

I gave her material!

Lots of it!

There were approximately 47 directions the conversation could have taken.

Ask me about New York.

Tell me about your weekend.

Ask why I went.

Tell me you love New York.

Tell me you hate New York.

Tell me you've never been to New York.

Ask about the food.

Ask about the flight.

Tell me I'm insane for writing that much in response to a simple question.

ANYTHING.

Then this morning...

“Good morning.”

Oh.

We've been here before.

GOOD MORNING!

I'm starting to wonder if Hinge is actually a dating app or an extremely inefficient morning-greeting service.

Don't get me wrong.

“Good morning” is nice.

It's friendly.

It's polite.

But what happens after good morning?

COMMUNICATE WITH ME!

This is the part of online dating that I genuinely don't understand.

I see Facebook Reels.

I see TikToks.

I see dating profiles.

Over and over, women say they want a man who:

“Communicates.”

Excellent!

SO DO I!

But apparently, we need to establish what “communicates” means.

I don't need a 37-page PDF outlining your thoughts and feelings.

I don't need hourly status updates.

I don't need:

10:42 AM — Going to Publix.
11:17 AM — Purchased bananas.
11:32 AM — Returning home.

But if you ask me a question and I give you an actual answer, maybe grab onto something I said.

Ask a follow-up question.

Tell me something about yourself.

Give me something to work with.

Conversation is supposed to be a tennis match.

Hit the damn ball back!

Am I Expecting Too Much?

And that's my legitimate question.

Am I expecting too much?

Maybe I am.

Maybe dating apps aren't supposed to produce immediate, flowing conversations.

Maybe people are cautious.

Maybe they're talking to five other matches.

Maybe they're busy.

Maybe some people are terrible at texting.

I understand all of that.

But I'm not asking someone to pick out china patterns after three messages.

I'm trying to have a conversation.

Ask me something.

I'll ask you something.

Tell me something ridiculous.

Make me laugh.

Tell me about the weird person you saw at Walmart.

Tell me you spent Saturday watching terrible movies and eating cereal.

I don't care.

Just give me something beyond:

“Good morning.”

Current Hinge Standings

So here's where we are:

Kelli: Unmatched. She has the number. If she wants to use it, she can. I'm not holding my breath.

Gina: Sent a message today! I responded. This one remains officially in play.

Missing Me: Asked about my weekend, received the extended director's cut of my NYC adventure, and followed up the next morning with “Good morning.”

And me?

Still here.

Still asking questions.

Still attempting to communicate.

Still wondering how the hell people meet each other in 2026.

And yes...

Steve the Iguana remains on standby. 🦎

At this rate, he's going to have his own Hinge profile before I have an actual date.

Back on Two Feet—Well, Sort Of

On Monday, I went to Floyd Brace to have my prosthetic repaired—and I’m happy to report that it is officially fixed!

No more loose parts, strange movements, or wondering whether my leg was about to develop a mind of its own. Everything is secure, comfortable, and working the way it should.

Living with a prosthetic means occasional repairs and adjustments are simply part of the adventure. Thankfully, the team at Floyd Brace got me put back together and walking out the door.

One less thing to worry about—and one more reason to keep moving forward.

Day 73: Who Exactly Is Judging Nextdoor’s “Good Neighbors”?

It's Day 73 of waiting for the detailed Nextdoor Insights reports I've requested.

Yesterday, Nextdoor published something that initially made me smile:

“It’s Time to Say Thank You: Nominate a Good Neighbor.”

Full article:

https://blog.nextdoor.com/its-time-to-say-thank-you-nominate-a-good-neighbor

I like the concept.

Nextdoor is asking people to nominate neighbors who consistently show up for others—the person who brings in the trash cans, checks on someone after a storm, waters the plants, or does the little things that make a neighborhood better.

Five neighbors, one from each region, will be publicly recognized on National Good Neighbor Day, September 28.

Great.

Although I hope the winners receive more than a digital pat on the back.

A medal? Plaque? Certificate?

Even better: How about a Nextdoor-funded donation to each winner's favorite local charity?

The blog itself doesn't mention a monetary prize or charitable donation. It says the five winners will be publicly recognized.

Then I reached “What happens next.”

And my communications-study brain switched back on.

Wait...Who's on the Panel?

Nextdoor says that after nominations close on September 14:

“a panel reviews the strongest nominations in each region”

They're scored based on how specific, sustained, and impactful the story is. The rules further say winners are selected by a committee of Nextdoor employees, one for each of five regions.

Okay.

Who?

Who selects the “strongest” nominations before they're scored?

Who sits on the panel?

What makes those people qualified to determine impact?

How is each criterion weighted?

Is there a scoring rubric?

Will those scores be published?

Are panelists required to disclose relationships with nominees?

These aren't accusations.

They're basic transparency questions.

And perhaps I'm particularly sensitive to the word panel after everything I've documented about Nextdoor.

I've questioned its moderation structure.

I've questioned its communications strategy.

And now we're introducing another group of unnamed decision-makers making subjective judgments.

Nextdoor, Show Us Your Simon Cowell

Look at American Idol, America's Got Talent, or Dancing with the Stars.

You know who's judging.

You know their backgrounds.

You can agree or disagree with Simon Cowell, Sofia Vergara, Mel B, Howie Mandel, or whoever happens to be sitting behind the desk—but at least you know who is making the judgment.

So Nextdoor, who's behind your desk?

If you're going to celebrate the best examples of neighborliness across the country, why not make the selection process part of the celebration?

Introduce the panel.

Tell us who they are.

Explain the scoring.

Show us what qualifies someone to evaluate a “specific, sustained, and impactful” contribution.

That's not bureaucracy.

That's transparency.

And after 73 days of my ongoing Nextdoor communication experiment, transparency remains a recurring theme.

I genuinely like the idea behind #GoodNeighborDay.

But if Nextdoor wants neighbors to trust the outcome, don't just tell us that a panel made the decision.

Show us the people behind the decision.

Otherwise, we're back to another familiar Nextdoor question:

Who's making the call—and why should neighbors trust the process?

Meanwhile...

Day 73. Still waiting for those detailed reports.

Follow my continuing Nextdoor study at NielFlamm.com/blog.

✈️ LaGuardia, I Owe You an Apology

I already wrote about my first reaction to arriving at LaGuardia Airport after not flying through LGA for a very, very long time.

But now I found a picture of LaGuardia from the 1990s, which is much closer to the airport I remember.

Put that picture next to the photos I took this weekend and...

Are we sure this is the same airport?

Seriously.

The old LaGuardia wasn't exactly an airport you arrived at early to soak up the atmosphere.

Low ceilings.

Fluorescent lighting.

Narrow corridors.

Crowded gate areas.

People sitting wherever they could find a spot.

Limited food choices.

And yes, I remember seeing rats running around in the drop ceiling.

That old photo brought it all back.

Then look at LaGuardia today.

📸 The Before-and-After Is Ridiculous

The 1990s picture almost looks like it came from a completely different era of air travel.

Because, well...

It did.

Compare that with the pictures I took this weekend.

Huge open spaces.

High ceilings.

Natural light.

Modern architecture.

Wide walkways.

Moving walkways.

Plenty of seating.

Restaurants and food options everywhere.

The difference isn't subtle.

It's astonishing.

Walking into the American Airlines check-in area, I actually stopped to take a picture because I couldn't believe I was standing in LaGuardia.

The check-in area is huge, bright, clean, and open.

Then I made my way farther into the terminal and had essentially the same reaction.

This is LGA?!

If your last memory of LaGuardia looks anything like that picture from the 1990s, you might have the same reaction I did.

🗽 And Then There's the View

I also took a picture of the view from LGA.

That's another thing I had forgotten about flying through LaGuardia.

You're right there in Queens, with New York City surrounding you, and depending on your approach or departure, you can get some fantastic views.

On my flight into New York, I caught a great view of Lower Manhattan during our descent.

On the way home, I got another chance to appreciate where the airport sits.

But there was still one final test.

⏰ What About the Famous LGA Delays?

The physical airport may have changed, but there was one part of the old LaGuardia experience I was fully expecting to revisit:

The delay.

Before all of these improvements, delays and LGA seemed to go together like New York and pizza.

You'd get to the airport.

Find your gate.

Sit down.

And wait.

Then you'd hear:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a short delay..."

And everyone familiar with LaGuardia would collectively think:

Of course we do.

This time, I was actually expecting a delay before departure.

And then something very strange happened.

We left.

No hours sitting around.

No endless mystery delay.

No wondering if I needed to find somewhere to sleep.

We got on the plane and took off.

I even recorded video of the takeoff because after everything I remembered about LGA, departing without that expected delay almost seemed worthy of documentation.

✈️ This May Change How I Travel to New York

Over the years, I've often used Newark (EWR) or JFK, depending on where I was going.

If I needed a rental car or was heading to the northern New Jersey suburbs, Newark often made sense.

JFK was another option depending on the flight and destination.

LaGuardia?

For a long time, it wasn't necessarily my first choice.

After this trip, that may change.

For getting into Queens and New York City, LGA was incredibly convenient.

I flew nonstop from Charleston.

Landed at LaGuardia.

Got over to Astoria quickly.

And when it was time to leave, I went through a clean, modern, comfortable airport and actually departed without the delay I had been expecting.

From THIS to THIS

That's what makes the old picture so much fun to include.

Look at 1990s LaGuardia.

Then look at the pictures I took in 2026.

If you haven't flown through LGA in years, erase whatever image you have in your head.

Because that airport no longer exists.

Airports aren't usually something I get excited about. They're a means to an end.

You go through security, buy an absurdly expensive drink, find your gate, and hope the person sitting next to you understands the universally accepted laws governing airplane armrests.

But this transformation deserves recognition.

So, LaGuardia...

I owe you an apology.

I remembered you as crowded terminals, low ceilings, people sitting on the floor, rats above my head, and seemingly inevitable delays.

Instead, you gave me a beautiful modern airport, great views, tons of food choices, easy access to Queens, and an on-time departure.

And that old photo proves something else:

My memory wasn't exaggerating quite as much as you might think.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but...

I'm actually looking forward to flying through LGA again.

Nicely done, New York.