We’re at It Again
The last pool won $4. Not exactly a life-changing haul, but a win is a win—and after taxes, we’ll see what’s left. The Niel tax applies, after all.
Now there’s $1.2 billion on the table, and we’re back in the game. Maybe this is the one that turns a few lucky numbers into a very different kind of group chat.
We know the odds. We know the last result. And still, here we are: dreaming big, pooling our hopes, and giving it another shot.
We’re at it again.
The Hinge Experiment: 600 Miles, Two Hours of Sleep, and Harry Potter!
If someone had told me a few months ago that I'd be driving more than 600 miles in one day, running on approximately two hours of sleep, watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone with a woman I met on Hinge, and nearly choking on a jalapeño, I probably would have asked what they'd been drinking.
Yet here we are.
The Hinge Experiment has officially entered its road-trip era.
On Sunday, Airica and I headed to COSM Atlanta to experience Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone in Shared Reality. The showing was at 8 AM, which meant I needed to leave Mount Pleasant at 2 AM, pick up Airica in Columbia around 4 AM, and arrive in Atlanta around 7 AM.
Simple enough, right?
I had a plan. I was going to get to bed around 6 PM on Saturday, wake up at 1:15 AM, get ready, and hit the road.
What could go wrong?
The Plan Was Perfect. My Sleep Schedule Was Not.
I did everything I could to prepare.
I washed the car and filled up the gas tank Saturday afternoon. I bought a few things I knew Airica liked: gummy candies and scratch-off lottery tickets.
Neither of us is a millionaire.
Yet.
Apparently, our retirement strategy is to buy lottery tickets and hope for the best.
So sad.
I was ready for bed early, or at least I thought I was. The problem was that sleep wasn't cooperating.
I wasn't lying awake worrying about anything in particular. My mind wasn't racing through a thousand different scenarios. I couldn't fall asleep.
I got about two hours of sleep before it was time to get up and begin the adventure.
Excellent.
Nothing says responsible adult like voluntarily starting a 600-mile road trip in the middle of the night after barely sleeping.
For the record, I wouldn’t recommend this plan to anyone. I should have prioritized getting adequate rest before such a long drive. But at the time, I was committed to making the experience happen.
The Road to Columbia
I left Mount Pleasant around 2 AM.
The roads were wonderfully quiet. There were hardly any cars, and the drivers who were out seemed to be playing nicely with one another.
No traffic jams. No unnecessary drama. No one seemingly determined to turn a simple drive into a demolition derby.
I arrived in Columbia, picked up Airica, and headed toward Atlanta.
She was tired, too, and slept through much of the roughly three-hour drive.
We stopped for a bathroom break and a quick fuel top-up along the way.
And, according to my very unofficial observations, Airica snored.
Lightly.
Very lightly.
I'm not trying to get myself into trouble here. I'm simply documenting the facts for the historical record.
Besides, if someone can fall asleep while I'm driving them across state lines at four in the morning, I’ll take that as a sign they're reasonably comfortable with me.
Or they're just exhausted.
Possibly both.
Welcome to the Wizarding World!
We made it to COSM Atlanta with time to spare.
People dressed as characters from the Harry Potter universe added to the atmosphere. We walked in, checked in, and got everything sorted without any major complications.
The COSM dome also hosts NFL games during football season, so the venue's scale is impressive even before the movie starts.
We got our prepaid enchanted-menu items, plus some extra food and drinks. There were nachos and a few other things to enjoy.
And then it was time for Harry Potter.
I'd seen Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone before, so I knew the story and remembered parts of the film. But experiencing it alongside Airica made it more enjoyable.
I got to see her excitement and how completely she geeked out. Sometimes, watching someone enjoy something they love is almost as much fun as the experience itself.
I enjoyed seeing her reactions and sharing the experience.
I'll write a separate review of COSM and the Shared Reality technology, because there's plenty to discuss. For now, it's an impressive piece of technology, and where you sit really does matter.
More on that in the dedicated review.
A Little Harry Potter Shopping
After the movie, we stopped for a bathroom break, then headed back to the car and picked up a few souvenirs.
Airica was particularly disappointed that there wasn't a much bigger selection of Harry Potter merchandise to buy.
I suspect she’d envisioned a shopping spree.
Unfortunately, the merchandise operation wasn't quite the magical money grab she had hoped for.
She did come away with a Harry Potter scarf and a Quidditch picture. She even got a physical copy of the photo in a commemorative protective lanyard.
So she had something tangible to take home.
And I had another memory of spending time with her.
I'll call that a successful shopping expedition, even if the store failed to extract every last dollar from her wallet.
Then Came the Jalapeño Incident
Now, I need to address something important.
At some point during the day, I choked on a jalapeño because I accidentally inhaled it.
Yes.
I inhaled a jalapeño.
I don't know how one accomplishes this. I wasn't trying to eat it particularly quickly, and I wasn't auditioning for a competitive eating contest.
Yet somehow, a piece of pepper took a wrong turn.
After everything I'd done that day, driving hundreds of miles on almost no sleep and watching a three-hour movie, a jalapeño nearly took me out.
I have one leg. I have kidney failure. My eyesight has given me more than enough trouble over the years.
And now I apparently need to add pepper-related respiratory incidents to the list.
The Hinge Experiment continues to provide material I could never have made up.
The Ride Back
After the movie and souvenir shopping, it was time to head back.
We had some great conversations on the drive. My back and shoulders started getting stiff, which wasn't surprising after spending so many hours behind the wheel.
Airica slept for about an hour on the way back.
This time, there was no snoring.
I'm not sure whether that was because she was sleeping more quietly or because I was too tired to conduct any further scientific observations.
Either way, we talked more, shared more laughs, and eventually made it back to Columbia.
We said our goodbyes there, and I continued the final leg of my journey home to Mount Pleasant.
The Autobahn Would Like a Word
The drive from Columbia back to Mount Pleasant was a different story.
Traffic was heavier, and I encountered some drivers who apparently have never encountered the phrase "Slower Traffic Keep Right."
For those unfamiliar, the left lane is generally intended for passing on roads where that rule applies. If you're traveling slower than the traffic around you, move right when it's safe.
It's not complicated.
Yet some drivers seem determined to occupy the left lane indefinitely, regardless of how much traffic stacks up behind them.
I suspect they would not do particularly well on the Autobahn.
For the record, I am not advocating speeding or unsafe driving. I appreciate drivers who follow basic lane etiquette and let traffic flow.
By this point, my back was stiff, my shoulders were tired, and I'd been awake for far too long.
I was ready to get home.
Made It Home Safely
During the drive, I received a call and a few texts from Airica.
I finally arrived home around 4:30 PM and let her know I'd made it safely.
Then I did what any sensible person would do after a day like that.
I went to sleep.
I slept until around 3 AM, then woke up and started writing this blog post.
Apparently, my body decided it was time to pay off its sleep debt.
I can't blame it.
I'd driven more than 600 miles, spent hours at COSM, watched a movie, eaten, talked, laughed, and somehow managed to inhale a jalapeño.
It was quite a day.
The Hinge Experiment Is Making Memories
Airica and I both have some busy weekends coming up, so we'll have to work around our schedules.
That's part of getting to know someone. Life doesn't stop just because you're dating—family commitments, work, responsibilities, and everything else that comes with being an adult.
But I'm glad we made this trip happen.
I got to experience something new, watch a movie with someone who genuinely enjoyed it, see her excitement, share some laughs, and create a memory that neither of us had before Sunday.
And that's what I want to remember.
Not the lack of sleep.
Not the traffic.
Not even the jalapeño incident.
The memory.
A few weeks ago, I was wondering whether Hinge was worth keeping. My matches had dried up, and I was beginning to think the whole experiment had run its course.
Now I'm driving across Georgia with Airica to see Harry Potter in an enormous dome, buying souvenirs, texting to make sure we both get home safely, and looking forward to whatever comes next.
I don't know where this will lead, and I'm not going to pretend I do.
But I'm enjoying getting to know her.
I'm glad we went.
And I'm glad I have another story to share.
Just one thing for next time: more sleep, fewer jalapeños, and maybe a slightly more reasonable start time.
Steve the Iguana, if you're reading this, you may want to hold off on booking that retirement cruise.
The Hinge Experiment isn't finished yet.
🌍 Russian? Dutch? Arabic? Who's Reading NielFlamm.com?
Apparently, my little corner of the internet is reaching more people worldwide than I realized! 🌎
I looked at the last 30 days of page views by language, and the results were surprising. I expected some international visitors, but these numbers have me scratching my head.
Here's what the chart shows:
🇳🇱 Dutch: 26.8%
🇸🇦 Arabic: 22.4%
🇨🇳 Chinese: 15.2%
🇷🇺 Russian: 13.2%
🇩🇪 German: 6.8%
🇪🇸 Spanish: 3.8%
🇮🇹 Italian: 3.6%
🇫🇷 French: 3.0%
Japanese and Vietnamese also appear in the chart, making this an even more interesting international mix.
Wait a minute... Is Dutch number one? Is Arabic number two? 🤔
If you've been following my website journey, you know I've been experimenting with Linguise to translate my content into different languages. I'm not a programmer or a digital marketing expert. I'm just trying to make my stories and experiences accessible to more people.
But now I'm wondering: Who are these readers, and what are they reading?
Are people discovering my blog through search engines? Are the translations helping me reach new audiences? Could some of this traffic come from automated bots or other non-human visitors? Website analytics don't always tell the whole story, so I'm not jumping to conclusions.
Still, it's fascinating to see my content potentially reaching people across so many language communities.
Whether you're reading about life as an amputee, dialysis, recovery, technology, movie reviews, or my ongoing adventures with the internet, thank you for stopping by.
And if you're one of my international readers, I'd especially love to hear from you!
Where are you reading from, and how did you find NielFlamm.com?
Leave a comment or email me at niel@nielflamm.com. I'd love to hear your story.
Who knows? Maybe my next blog post will need a few more translations! 😄
Day 124: Election-Year Division, Gun Violence and the Responsibility of Nextdoor
As Election Day approaches, political divisions are becoming harder to ignore. People disagree about candidates, policies, and the country’s direction. Too often, those disagreements turn personal.
And sometimes, conflict doesn't stay online.
We continue to see concerns about gun violence and situations where firearms are used to settle arguments that should never have escalated that far. A disagreement, an insult, or a heated exchange can have consequences that reach far beyond a screen.
That brings me back to Nextdoor.
What Happens When an Online Argument Becomes a Neighborhood Problem?
Nextdoor isn't just another social media platform. Its conversations are tied to real neighborhoods, real people, and, in many cases, verified addresses.
The person you're arguing with online might live down the street. You might see them at the grocery store, walking their dog or picking up their mail.
That's what makes Nextdoor's responsibility different.
A platform designed to connect neighbors should take seriously the possibility that online conflict can spill into real life.
I'm not suggesting Nextdoor is responsible for every disagreement or act of violence. But I do believe a platform built around physical neighborhoods has a responsibility to consider how its policies, moderation, and safety practices affect those communities.
The Mystery of Moderator Vetting and Training
I've raised questions before about Nextdoor's moderator model. I still want to understand how Nextdoor vets, trains, and supports moderators.
What does Nextdoor require before someone becomes a moderator?
Vetting: What screening, if any, is conducted before someone receives moderation responsibilities?
Training: Do moderators receive training in de-escalation, political disputes, harassment, threats, and privacy?
Continuing education: Are moderators periodically retrained as policies, risks, and platform features change?
Accountability: How does Nextdoor evaluate moderator decisions, address complaints, and identify inconsistent enforcement?
Safety escalation: What happens when a discussion involves a credible threat, doxxing, or concerns about someone's physical safety?
I don't know all the details of Nextdoor's current procedures. That's precisely why I'm asking.
I'm not suggesting that every moderator is unqualified or that moderators have unrestricted access to users' private information. I'm asking for a clear explanation of the safeguards, training, and oversight in place.
Safety Has to Extend Beyond the Screen
Removing a comment or suspending an account might address a violation of platform rules. But what happens when a neighbor feels threatened in their own community?
Does Nextdoor have clear procedures for handling credible threats? Are users told how to report urgent safety concerns? Are moderators trained to recognize when a dispute requires escalation beyond ordinary content moderation?
How does the company protect personal information so a heated political disagreement doesn't become an opportunity for intimidation or retaliation?
A neighborhood can be technically connected and still feel unsafe.
The goal shouldn't simply be to keep conversations within the rules. It should be to help create an environment where people can disagree without feeling threatened.
Of course, no platform can guarantee that violence will never happen. But clear policies, effective training, appropriate access controls, and accountable moderation are meaningful parts of risk prevention.
Nirav, Let's Talk About the Real World
Nirav Tolia, I know Nextdoor is focused on AI, neighborhood intelligence, and business growth. Those initiatives may create real opportunities for the company.
But as Election Day approaches, I'd like to hear more about how Nextdoor prepares its moderators to manage the very human side of its platform.
How are moderators vetted? What continuing education do they receive? How are safety concerns escalated? And how does Nextdoor evaluate whether its moderation practices help protect neighbors—not just from bad experiences online, but from risks that can follow them into their communities?
These are not questions about political ideology. They're questions about safety, trust, and accountability.
If Nextdoor's mission is to cultivate a kinder world where everyone has a neighborhood they can rely on, how does it prepare the people enforcing its rules to help make that possible?
Day 124. I still want Nextdoor to succeed. But growth, AI, and advertising are only part of the picture. A neighborhood platform also has to take seriously the responsibility that comes with connecting people who live near one another.
Because when an online disagreement follows someone home, the consequences aren't measured in comments, reactions, or engagement metrics.
They're measured in people's lives.
👉 Follow my continuing case study at NielFlamm.com/blog
A Cooler Afternoon with Mom, a Warmer Conversation, and the Ongoing Battle for Boundaries
Today, I'm sitting outside with Mom at the skilled nursing facility. It's about 20 degrees Fahrenheit cooler out here, which makes a huge difference. We're enjoying the fresh air and talking, and I'm doing what I often do: writing as life unfolds around me.
Our conversation has turned to my father, her husband, and what's going on at home.
Sometimes, the conversations you have with your mother aren't just about her recovery or what happens next. They become conversations about the life she's lived, the relationship she's in, and what's missing.
And today, that's where we are.
Another Round with Dad
Last night, my father and I got into it again.
This time, we argued about the outdoor garbage receptacles.
Yes, the garbage cans.
On Thursday, he asked if I had brought the receptacles in from the curb. I answered: Yes, they had been brought in.
Fast-forward to last night.
He asked me the same question again.
My response was straightforward: "I told you yesterday."
He came back with, "I still don't know if they were brought in."
At that point, I gave him my final answer on the subject:
"You can get up and look."
Apparently, that wasn't the response he wanted.
He then told me we needed to be civil.
My response?
"How am I not being civil?"
I'm not refusing to be civil. I'm refusing to be a servant.
There's a difference.
I'm setting boundaries, and apparently, those boundaries aren't sitting well with him.
Show My Belly? No, Just Do the Right Thing.
The conversation continued.
My father asked what he should do. Did I want him to "show his belly"?
For anyone unfamiliar with that expression, he was referring to making himself submissive to me.
My answer was simple.
"No, I want you to do the right thing and give Mom the money she earned."
That's what this is about.
My mother has spent decades working and earning money. I have Power of Attorney over her assets to help manage her finances and arrange for her care. Yet my father has voluntarily declined to share information about her employer's 401(k).
Meanwhile, I'm touring assisted living facilities, trying to figure out what Mom's next chapter might look like and how to pay for it.
This isn't about me wanting control over my father.
It's about making sure Mom's resources can be identified and used appropriately for her care.
I don't need him to be submissive to me. I need him to cooperate in doing what's right for Mom.
Those are two very different things.
Meanwhile, Back at the House...
There's another part of this situation that I can't ignore.
While all this is happening, the clutter at home keeps growing.
I'm talking about junk food, boxes, papers, old medication, and other things creeping into spaces where they don't belong.
It's becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
I'm starting to wonder whether my father is developing hoarding behaviors. I can't diagnose him, and I don't know what's driving the accumulation, but from where I'm standing, the situation is getting out of control.
Things seem to be spreading everywhere.
And before anyone points fingers, let me acknowledge something: I don't live in the tidiest room myself. I'm not going to pretend my personal space belongs in a home organization magazine.
There's a difference, though, between having a messy room and watching clutter accumulate throughout the living space until it becomes a growing concern.
I'm not claiming to have a perfectly organized home. I'm saying that what I'm seeing is becoming a problem.
I'm planning to take some pictures to share in a future post. I want people to understand what I'm talking about, not just read my description and imagine something different.
I'll be mindful to protect personal information in any pictures I share, especially if medication labels or other private details are visible.
The clutter is another layer of stress in an already difficult situation.
I'm trying to help Mom transition to a more suitable living arrangement while navigating a strained relationship with my father. Meanwhile, the house where we both live is becoming increasingly difficult to deal with.
It's a lot.
Sitting Outside with Mom
And that brings me back to where I am today.
I'm outside with Mom, enjoying the cooler weather and talking.
She's telling me about other people at the facility.
She's noticed couples who are working together in therapy. She's seen partners visiting their loved ones. She's watching people show up for one another during a difficult chapter of life.
And I can't help but notice the contrast she's describing.
Her husband hasn't been showing up for her in that way.
At least, that's how she's experiencing it.
He's not there working alongside her in therapy. He's not visiting her or spending time with her the way she sees other partners do for their loved ones.
Instead, I'm the one making the visits, asking questions, touring facilities, and trying to figure out the next steps.
I'm not looking for a medal. I'm her son.
But I can understand why seeing those other couples might bring up some difficult feelings for her.
When recovering from a serious medical event, notice who's there for you. You notice who makes the effort. You notice the people who sit beside you, encourage you, and help you get through the day.
And sometimes, you notice who's missing.
I don't know everything that's happened throughout their 56 years of marriage. I'm not going to pretend that I do.
But I can see what's happening now, and I can hear what Mom has to say.
Boundaries Aren't the Same as Being Uncivil
My father and I are clearly not on the same page.
He wants us to be civil.
I want us to do what's necessary to help Mom.
Those goals shouldn't be incompatible.
We can disagree without being disrespectful. We can have difficult conversations without turning every question into a power struggle. We can work together on practical matters without one person expecting the other to be at their beck and call.
And we can discuss Mom's finances without turning the conversation into a debate about who is submitting to whom.
I'm not asking my father to show his belly.
I'm asking him to help resolve the financial questions standing between Mom and the care she wants.
I'm also trying to establish boundaries around what I'm willing to do, how I'm willing to be treated, and how much energy I can devote to these ongoing conflicts.
I have dialysis. I have my own health to manage. I have recovery meetings, responsibilities, and a life outside the skilled nursing facility.
I cannot spend every day fighting battles that cooperation could resolve.
And I don't want to.
What Happens Next?
For now, I'll keep moving forward.
I'll continue exploring assisted living options for Mom. I'll continue trying to understand her financial resources. I'll continue visiting her and listening to what she has to say.
And I'll continue setting boundaries when conversations with my father become unproductive.
The situation at home is another concern I'll have to address, especially as the clutter continues to spread.
I don't have all the answers.
I don't know how this will ultimately play out.
But sitting outside with Mom today, listening to her talk about the couples she sees working together, has given me something to think about.
Sometimes, support isn't complicated.
It's showing up.
It's sitting beside someone.
It's helping them take the next step, even when that step is difficult.
And sometimes, it's doing the work that needs to be done without expecting applause.
That's what I'm trying to do for Mom.
As for the garbage cans, I think we've established that my father can check them himself.
I'm her son, not his servant.