41 Days Until Cruise Time: Checked In Emotionally, Still Single Officially
Royal Caribbean has informed me that my cruise is 41 days away and online check-in is available.
Finally, a relationship moving forward.
There it is on my screen: four nights in the Western Caribbean aboard Radiance of the Seas, October 29 through November 2. A balcony cabin on Deck 9. And under “Guests,” a little circle containing my initials: NF.
Naturally Fabulous.
No Fiancée.
Negotiations Failed.
Interpret that however you like.
Last time I checked, the countdown said 50 days. Now it says 41. Nine days have passed, and I’m pleased to report that my vacation planning has progressed from staring at the reservation on my phone to staring at it on a larger screen.
That’s called taking a broader view.
The website offers two buttons: “Plan my cruise” and “Manage reservation.”
I appreciate the confidence. I’m still trying to manage what’s in my refrigerator, but apparently I’m qualified to coordinate an international maritime adventure.
At least the cabin decision is settled: a balcony on Deck 9.
This gives me a private place to drink coffee, watch the ocean, and gaze thoughtfully into the distance as if I’m contemplating something deeper than whether breakfast is still being served.
A balcony also provides the perfect setting for romance. Ocean breeze. Beautiful sunsets. Two people sharing a quiet moment.
Currently, the second person is a chair.
We’re taking things slowly.
Yes, the search for my future ex-wife continues. I’ve secured the scenery, arranged the accommodations, and selected a departure date. At this point, I feel I’ve done more than my share of the relationship planning.
Ideal candidates should enjoy travel, appreciate sarcasm, and understand that “Would you like dessert?” is a logistical question about which dessert, not whether we’re having any.
Meanwhile, I still have the transportation puzzle: a 5 a.m. flight from Charleston to Tampa through Miami, or about seven hours of driving.
The flight requires leaving home around 3:30 a.m., when the only thing I want to connect with is my pillow.
And Miami? I’m trying to get to Tampa. The airline apparently thinks I should preview the rest of Florida first.
Driving remains tempting. I get my own seat, unrestricted access to snacks, and no possibility of my suitcase deciding to spend the weekend somewhere more interesting than I do.
I haven’t made the final call yet. Fortunately, I have 41 days to revisit the same calculations and arrive at the same level of uncertainty.
As for Radiance, yes, she’s an older ship. So what? I’m increasingly fond of things with a little mileage that still know how to have a good time.
I don’t need my ship to be the newest thing afloat. I need a comfortable bed, good food, an ocean view, and a schedule where “do absolutely nothing” is a legitimate afternoon activity.
This cruise also includes Halloween, which opens up some costume possibilities.
I could go as a well-rested man.
Or someone who packed appropriately.
Or a guy whose future ex-wife actually showed up.
Some costumes require more imagination than others.
After this, there’s MSC in January and Utopia of the Seas out of Port Canaveral in April. My calendar has a healthy social life. I’m hoping to catch up with it eventually.
For now, the countdown continues. The balcony is booked. Online check-in is open.
And Royal Caribbean keeps asking me to manage my reservation when, frankly, finding someone to occupy the other balcony chair would be a much more impressive service.
Forty-one days to go. Future ex-wife applications remain open. Please include availability, snack preferences, and your position on unnecessary layovers.
Day 96: The Stock Is Flat. The Communications Team Is Quiet. The Petition Isn’t.
Welcome to Day 96.
As I write this, Nextdoor Holdings (NXDR) is sitting at $2.48—no gain, no loss. Recent market data confirms the shares at roughly that level after a nice run from $2.15 on September 9. Yahoo!ファイナンス
So, today the stock is doing something Nextdoor Communications seems pretty good at lately:
Sitting quietly.
One Post. About Someone Else’s Award.
Nextdoor's LinkedIn communications have been unusually quiet this week. The notable post on Monday highlighted Publix, which ranked No. 4 on PEOPLE's 100 Companies That Care list. Nextdoor itself wasn't among the companies being recognized; the connection was that a Publix employee used Nextdoor while helping neighbors ahead of Hurricane Milton. LinkedIn
As I wrote earlier: congratulations to Publix and, especially, the employee who actually helped those neighbors.
But we're now at Day 96, and the detailed Insights data I've been requesting remains unresolved.
Meanwhile, something new is moving.
The Petition Is Live
I've launched a petition asking Nextdoor to consider a Neighbor Value-Sharing Agreement.
The idea is simple: if years of reviews, recommendations, advice, and local knowledge contributed by neighbors become increasingly valuable—particularly in an AI-driven world—shouldn't the people creating that value participate in it?
If you agree, take a moment to sign it.
Then do something even more important:
Share it.
Send it to another Nextdoor user. A small-business owner. A neighbor. Someone interested in AI, user-generated content, or how platforms monetize the communities that make them useful.
Day 96.
The stock is flat.
Communications is quiet.
The conversation doesn't have to be.
👉 Follow the continuing case study at NielFlamm.com/blog
A $10,000 2023 BMW M3 Competition? TikTok Has Apparently Entered the Luxury-Car Business
TikTok must really want me to buy a car.
After showing me suspiciously cheap Toyotas and Hondas, the algorithm has apparently decided I deserve an upgrade.
This time, the account is called “BANK-OWNED CARS FOR SALE,” and the vehicle in the video is described as a:
2023 BMW M3 Competition
Asking price: $10,000
Down payment: $500
Yes.
A 2023 BMW M3 Competition for ten grand.
At least we're moving up in the world.
🚩 Let's Check What a 2023 BMW M3 Competition Is Actually Worth
This is where the offer becomes interesting.
Kelley Blue Book currently puts a typical 2023 BMW M3 Competition at roughly $74,000–$75,000 as a Fair Purchase Price. KBB lists private-party value around $69,000 and trade-in value around $65,000, though actual values vary substantially with mileage, condition, and location. Kbb.com
And if the car pictured is the Competition xDrive version, KBB puts the Fair Purchase Price even higher—roughly $77,000. Kbb.com
TikTok?
$10,000.
That's not a good deal.
That price demands an explanation.
If the typical Competition is worth around $74,000, the TikTok price is roughly 86% lower.
Maybe the vehicle has substantial damage.
Maybe there's a title issue.
Maybe it has astronomical mileage.
Maybe there's some other legitimate explanation.
But that's precisely the information a buyer needs before getting excited about a $500 down payment.
🚩 Wait... How Many Miles Does It Have?
Someone in the comments asked:
“How many miles are on the dash?”
Excellent question.
The screenshot doesn't tell us.
Mileage matters when we're discussing why a late-model performance BMW is supposedly selling for a fraction of its normal value.
Another commenter simply writes:
“real price”
The account responds:
“$10,000”
Okay.
That answers the question without actually answering the much bigger question:
WHY is it $10,000?
🚩 But It's “Bank-Owned!”
This version adds a new ingredient to the recipe.
The account calls itself:
BANK-OWNED CARS FOR SALE
That sounds official, doesn't it?
Maybe people imagine a bank repossessed the BMW and just wants to recover whatever money it can.
But think about the economics.
If a bank legitimately repossessed an asset potentially worth tens of thousands of dollars, why would it voluntarily sell it for $10,000 if substantially more could potentially be recovered through established wholesale or auction channels?
“Bank-owned” doesn't magically make market value disappear.
If anything, that description makes me want more documentation, not less.
Which bank owns it?
Where is the vehicle?
What's the VIN?
What's the mileage?
What's the title status?
Where can I inspect it?
Who is legally authorized to sell it?
Those are boring questions.
Boring questions are extremely useful when somebody wants your money.
🚩 And My Old Friend Is Back: $500 Down
There it is again.
$500 DOWN.
This number has become a recurring character in the questionable vehicle ads showing up in my TikTok feed.
The vehicles change.
The prices change.
The accounts change.
But somehow that small, psychologically appealing down payment keeps appearing.
This time we're supposed to believe that $500 gets the process started on a late-model BMW M3 Competition.
What happens to the remaining $9,500?
What's the APR?
What's the loan term?
What's the monthly payment?
Who's financing it?
What are the credit requirements?
The screenshots don't tell us.
That's a lot of missing information for an advertisement prominently featuring a down payment.
🚩 Look at the Engagement
This is why I don't simply laugh and scroll away.
The video shows:
1,394 likes.
88 comments.
360 saves.
377 shares.
And in the comments, someone says:
“I'll take it”
That's the part that matters.
Because a person who knows what an M3 Competition normally costs may immediately recognize how extraordinary this offer is.
Someone else might not.
They may simply see:
BMW M3
$10,000
$500 DOWN
And think they just stumbled across the opportunity of a lifetime.
🚩 “Where Is This Car Located?”
There's another interesting detail right on the TikTok screenshot.
The suggested search says:
“where is this car located”
That's exactly what I'd want to know.
If I were seriously considering this vehicle, I wouldn't begin with:
“How do I send the $500?”
I'd begin with:
Where is it?
Then:
What's the VIN?
Then:
Who owns it?
Then:
Can I see the title?
Then:
Can I have an independent mechanic inspect it?
Then:
Can I see the car in person before paying you anything?
A legitimate transaction should survive those questions.
🚩 The Pictures Don't Prove Who Owns the BMW
The screenshots show what appears to be a real BMW M3 sitting outside an automotive business.
That's useful for showing us that a BMW existed somewhere when the images were taken.
It does not, by itself, establish that the TikTok account owns the vehicle or is authorized to sell it.
That's one of the most important lessons with social-media vehicle listings.
A photograph of a real car doesn't automatically make the offer real.
Dealer photographs can be copied.
Auction photographs can be copied.
Videos can be reposted.
Descriptions can be copied.
A scammer doesn't necessarily need to invent a car.
They may only need pictures of someone else's car.
I'm not saying that's what happened here; I haven't independently established who owns the BMW in these screenshots. But that's exactly why verification matters.
🧮 Let's Put the Numbers Side by Side
According to KBB, a typical 2023 M3 Competition currently has a Fair Purchase Price around $74,000, while the xDrive version is around $77,000. Kbb.com
The TikTok advertisement:
$10,000
Down payment:
$500
Mileage shown:
Not in these screenshots
VIN shown:
Not in these screenshots
Bank identified:
Not in these screenshots
Financing terms:
Not in these screenshots
Someone ready to buy:
“I'll take it.”
That's exactly why these posts deserve attention.
🏡 Don't Be Passive. Be a Good Neighbor.
I've been saying this more frequently because I think it's important.
When you see something online that looks suspicious, don't automatically assume everyone else sees what you see.
Someone may desperately need transportation.
Someone may not know what an M3 normally costs.
Someone may believe that “bank-owned” explains the enormous discount.
Someone may be one private message away from being told:
“Send $500, and we'll reserve it.”
I have not messaged this account, so I don't know what happens next, and I'm not claiming that's what this seller does.
But if you see someone preparing to send money on an extraordinary social-media offer, say something.
Ask questions.
Report suspicious posts.
Help them verify the seller.
Look up the vehicle's real value.
Ask for the VIN.
Independently identify the dealership or bank supposedly selling it.
And most importantly:
Don't send a deposit merely because someone on social media says the deal won't last.
Being a good neighbor doesn't stop when you go online.
Sometimes it simply means telling somebody:
“Before you send that $500, let's figure out why a $74,000 BMW supposedly costs $10,000.”
Because if there's a legitimate explanation, the seller should be able to provide it.
And if there isn't?
You may have just helped somebody keep their $500.
Follow along at NielFlamm.com/blog for more questionable vehicle offers, suspicious emails, recruiting scams and whatever the algorithm sends me next.
Mom, the Call Button, and My Own Bad Example
I’ve been hanging out with Mom at the skilled nursing facility for about four hours. Since I’m on disability due to my awesome health—please read that with the intended sarcasm—I have some time.
While I’ve been here, she has used the call button at least four times. Eventually, I had a conversation with her about it.
My first reaction came from how I behaved when I was in the hospital. I hardly ever used the call button. I thought that if I kept calling, people might respond more slowly.
That was my assumption. No one ever told me that would happen.
In fact, I’ve been told that my reluctance to call can create its own problems because I sometimes wait too long. And I have a pretty good example of that.
During a hospital stay here in Mount Pleasant, I felt my blood sugar dropping. I thought maybe it would bounce back on its own.
So I waited.
And waited.
Eventually, I realized I was in trouble. I pressed the call button and could barely get out the words that my blood sugar was low.
A nurse arrived with a glucose monitor and checked it with a finger stick. If I remember correctly, the reading was somewhere in the high 40s.
Then came the orange juice, graham crackers, peanut butter, cheese—the nurse brought what felt like every available food item.
When I called, the nurses’ desk understood that I needed help urgently. At the time, I took that as evidence that they rarely called unless I was serious.
Looking back, I can’t say that my previous silence had anything to do with their response. What I do know is that I waited until I could barely explain what was happening.
That is not exactly a success story about being a low-maintenance patient.
So, while I may have opinions about Mom pressing her call button, I also need to remember that my approach wasn’t necessarily better. Four calls in four hours doesn’t tell the whole story. What she needed matters more than the number.
There is room to be considerate of busy staff and, when practical, ask for several things at once. There also has to be room to ask for help without feeling like a nuisance.
After writing about advocating for Mom, I suppose I need to apply that same thinking when she advocates for herself.
Apparently, I’m not just spending time with her. I’m getting a refresher course in my own contradictions.
Mom Needed a Bathroom. We Needed a Solution.
My mother is now in a skilled nursing facility. She had a stroke at the end of June 2026 and a second one about three weeks ago. This is her fourth hospital or medical facility in the last three months.
That is a lot of moving, adjusting, and starting over. I get it. I’ve been there.
Part of the longer-term plan involves her wish not to return home once she gets back to where she was before the second stroke. That is a story for another time.
Today’s story is about something much more immediate: Mom needed to use the bathroom.
She arrived at the facility this afternoon, and her evaluations weren’t complete yet. Because physical therapy hadn’t evaluated her, there was uncertainty about how she could safely get to the bathroom—or whether she could get there at all.
I understood the concern. Nobody wanted her to fall or get hurt.
But her need to go wouldn’t wait for an evaluation.
I heard the explanation from three different people, delivered almost the same way each time. What I didn’t hear was a solution.
Mom and I asked for a bedpan.
We were told the facility doesn’t use bedpans.
Okay. So what do we do now?
This was also the point when I started feeling increasingly confident about my decision not to pursue a career in healthcare. As I wrote recently, patience is not one of my strengths. Hearing the same explanation repeatedly while my mother still needed help was putting that to the test.
I asked again: We need to find a solution. She can’t simply not go.
Eventually, someone made the executive decision to find a bedpan. I assume someone dug it out of the nonexistent basement.
Crisis averted.
I appreciate the need for evaluations and safe procedures. I also appreciate the person who finally found a way to help. But there needs to be an answer for what happens while a new resident is waiting for those evaluations.
From our side of the conversation, we had a basic, immediate need and several explanations of why it was complicated.
What would have helped was hearing: “We haven’t assessed her mobility yet. Here is how we can help her safely in the meantime.”
That would have given Mom some reassurance and both of us a plan.
Today, we eventually got there. It just took three explanations and a supposedly unavailable bedpan.