As a little boy, the one exception to television during dinner time came during one week in late fall, when a cable channel featured nightly broadcasts of classic Bond films. I sat at the top of the table, eyes glued to the screen. Doing something that was otherwise taboo only added to the films' appeal. 

My father was a fan, and my mother likely approved purely on the grounds of it keeping me wholly enthralled. I quickly became enamored with Sir Connery's role as Bond in Dr. No, From Russia with Love, Thunderball, You Only Live Twice, Diamonds are Forever and, to an admittedly lesser extent, Never Say Never Again. However, Goldfinger changed everything in less than two hours. 

Whereas McQueen and Dean had an everyman appeal, Connery offered something different. Like a debonair Buddha under the Bodhi Tree, he'd achieved perfect coolness enlightenment, though under the cover of Bond. 

In Goldfinger, Bond travels to then-exotic Mexico, lively Miami Beach, sophisticated England, beautiful Switzerland and Fort Knox, Kentucky. He shares the company of beautiful women each stop of the way, last seen with Pussy Galore. He plays golf, chills Dom Perignon '53, enjoys martinis, sips a "30-year-old fine, indifferently blended ... with an overdose of Bon Bois". He wears a Rolex Submariner, and perfectly tailored suits, tuxedos and shoes from Saville Row. He carries a sly Walther PPK. He flies in private jets and drives a gorgeous Aston Martin DB5, with the added bonus of Q-approved machine guns, oil slick, rear deflector, ejector seat and more. He chases bad guys, and always wins. He always keeps cool, no matter how dire things become. He is witty, humorous and supremely confident. He filled my formative years with dreams of elaborate espionage.

As puberty came bumbling, it became clear through the acne and braces, that I was not growing into Sean Connery. Instead, I bore an uncanny resemblance to Fred Savage's character of Kevin Arnold from The Wonder Years. That would've been fine if I were interested in chasing Winnie, but I wanted to chase bad guys through the Swiss Alps in a fully optioned sports car. With MI6 issuing a freeze on "00" hires, I went the high school and college route. I took up a more mundane profession, though the nature of it allows me access to places and people many would be denied, and I'm encouraged to be inquisitive and meet some of the world's most interesting people. I never fully got over Bond, though. My collection of Bond ephemera will attest to this.

This past Saturday, thanks to PlayhouseSquare's Cinema at the Square series, I saw Goldfinger on the big screen for the first time, for $5. I own the book (along with all the other Fleming Bond books), I owned the VHS version, I own the DVD, and I've seen the movie no fewer than 300 times, but I'd never seen it in a theater. Despite the opulent environs of the Palace Theatre, a truly stunning venue, I was again that boy at the dinner table. My thoughts raced to traveling, exploring distant lands; to blindingly fast mountain road passes in an Aston Martin; to craftily dispensing with the bad guys and saving the day; to fittings for bespoke suits and hand-stitched dress shoes; to sipping fine spirits at lunch. It was, and always will be, wonderfully transportive – as a great movie should be. I already had a starring Bond girl. Sometimes, reality wins.

The school year is underway, and regional officials and administrators are bracing for another rash of "sexting" incidents. Lawyers are having a field day in Ohio divorce courts thanks to well-documented infidelities on Facebook. Corporate attorneys are making the case for libel against local Yelp authors. However, the greatest Internet-led crackdown is occurring on Ohio's motorways, and social media users are willingly giving themselves up. 

Foursquare is among the country's most popular web and mobile applications, allowing registered users of the free service the opportunity to "check-in" at locations, earning them points and "badges". Among obsessives, the "mayor" status is highly coveted, and tells other Foursquare users they visited a certain location more frequently than any other user. Recognizing the public's constant need for acceptance, restaurants and bars are using the application to drive business. Currently, a number of establishments offer discounts, specials and more to Foursquare users who regularly check-in. 

"The FBI developed an algorithm to track patterns of usage among users of social media applications, among them Foursquare," says Ohio state patrolman Frank Itidio. "It was clear that certain individuals most frequently 'checked-in' at bars, night clubs and restaurants. We've been using this algorithm locally, in a unique tracking system that allows us to monitor the whereabouts of certain Foursquare users." 

Itidio won't divulge how users are "red flagged", but notes that "becoming mayor of your favorite bar may make you look cool among your Facepage [sic] friends or on Mytown [sic], but it makes you a problem driver in the eyes of local law enforcement." 

Since the program started in June, officers have recorded 38 arrests for DUI, following stops based on Foursquare user updates. Regina Pantiodano was one of them. 

"I thought it was harmless," says Pantiodano, a 38-year-old marketing executive and blogger living in the suburbs of Columbus, Ohio. "I wanted everyone to know how often I went out, how often I supported local businesses. I wanted people to know that I had a cool social life. I wish I had just kept it to myself, and enjoyed it for what it was." 

Pantiodano became mayor of her favorite bar (which she prefers not to name) in Columbus' Short North district. "I often went after work with friends," she says. "I went at least four times per week." On Friday, June 4 at 11:45 pm, moments after leaving her favorite Short North bar, Pantiodano was stopped by a special social media mounted police task force, when she failed to indicate at a turn.The mounted task force were waiting for her after her name was picked out by the FBI-created algorithm being used by Columbus law enforcement.

"While I am not familiar with all the details of Ms. Pantiodano's case, I do know that her Foursquare check-ins, in combination with her Twitters [sic] and Facepage [sic] updates indicated a pattern of activity that was perceived as reckless." A visit to Pantiodano's Facebook page, which still contains her Foursquare updates from June 4, indicates 11 different Foursquare check-ins: a grocery store, a beauty supply retailer, her home, a gas station, a restaurant, convenient store and five bars. 

That night, she was arrested and later convicted of a DUI, sentenced to two nights in jail, ordered to pay more than $1,000 in fines and lost her mayor status. She has since quit using Foursquare and "only really uses Facebook to update my profile picture and post pics of my dog."

Interviewing people is among the highlights of my work. I enjoy hearing stories, learning new things, meeting new people – it suits my naturally inquisitive nature. I feel lucky to share these stories with the OhioAuthority audience. Transcribing those interviews is another matter.

While journalists will debate the pros and cons of the job, most will agree that transcription work is tedious. Carefully documenting countless hours of interviews, insuring the accuracy of quoted material is critical to producing honest and insightful features, but it takes time. A lot of time.

Faced with more than five hours of interview tape, an office phone that never stops ringing and an email inbox that is constantly bombarded, I took my work outside. As most working men and women made their way home after a long day, I made my way outdoors. After spending all day before a computer, it was nice to let a bit of analog into my life. I was determined to get through a large a portion of the transcription work before fixing a late dinner.

My location in North Collinwood is in walking distance to not only Villa Angela and Wildwood parks, but also the East Shore Park Club, a private neighborhood park with amazing lake vistas. The latter, with its relative quiet and scenic backdrop would help make the transcription process less monotonous.

I was cruising through the transcription, the sun beaming, the lake in view, hedgehogs darting around, when a man arrived with a fan on a trailer. He quickly unloaded the enormous fan mounted to a two-stroke engine, and let it rip. It was loud. If you've ever been to the Everglades, and know the cacophony of an air boat, you'd recognize this sound. It shattered my concentration, but my curiosity was piqued. When the man unfurled a large parachute on the grounds, I was fascinate.

Soon, another man arrived with a similar set-up. He helped the first man strap the sizable fan to his back, like James Bond on his way to grade school, and set the direction of his parachute. With that, he fired the engine, the propeller quickly and loudly spinning, the fan secured to his back, seated on the equivalent of a child's folding chair and managing the now airborn chute with a series of cords. With a few brisk paces, he launched himself of the shore's cliff. I was at once ready to cheer, and at once fearful that I was about to witness a scene that would later air on one of those "when terrible things happen" programs. He quickly vanished from my sight and out of earshot, flying over the lake. His high-flying buddy was quick to follow suit.

I had intended on staying for a couple hours, and lathered my pasty Irish skin in the requisite sunscreen for that time period. It was wearing off, my arms slowly roasting to a fiery red, but I was too interested in the weirdness unfolding before me to depart. With the flyers gone, I resumed my transcription, now committed to wait for their return. I'd seen the take-off, but how were they going to land? Approximately 45 minutes later, both men returned, the first flying by my picnic table-cum-desk, saluting with a thumbs up.

Safely grounded, the men began packing up, and I made introductions, thanking them for the free air show. I met Mike, the first flyer. I learned he'd been paraflying for more than six years, and he's flown as high as 4,000 feet. I learned you don't need a license to parafly. Most interesting, Mike is one of my new neighbors. He's lived in the neighborhood for nearly a decade, and the East Shore Park Club doubles as his airstrip. He's the first neighbor I've actually met. Although I asked Mike a litany of questions, it wasn't an interview. It was a conversation. No transcribing or special skills needed.