OMMA Hollywood and back....

Upon returning from my first OMMA Global Hollywood, I come back a smarter business person, and a more cynical traveler.

Smarter in that I can more confidently speak to the business I take part in everyday. Smarter in that I feel perfectly confident in posing my opinions to someone with twice the experience that I have. Smarter in that many important people are now using my business card as a coaster.

But, not every business trip goes irritation free in my world. My ongoing battle with the airline industry as a whole continues, and this trip was no exception. Some may call this growing rivalry a figment of my imagination, but at this point in time, I can confidently say that both the TSA and United Airlines are out to screw me.

Allow me to give the three part run down to the trip that was OMMA Global Hollywood...

“Do you have a Ziploc bag for that?”
What would happen if I decided that instead of surrendering my toothpaste, I chose to squeeze it out all over the TSA worker’s shirt? Draw a happy face on his chest tell him how much I hated him. These rent-a-cops on steroids have really created a circus at the security checkpoints in airports nationwide. I still can’t decide whether this gel scam is a product of Ziploc or the personal care industry. On one hand, Ziploc could be implementing the largest guerilla marketing campaign ever, using product placement to implant their brand name into the vulnerable minds of disillusioned travelers everywhere who don’t know whether to s**t or go blind when asked, “Do you want to surrender your items?” Meanwhile, Colgate is wetting themselves because al- Qaeda just made those travel size toothpaste bottles logical to Judy Smith of Des Moines, Iowa who doesn’t know how exactly to get through security without overstepping the bounds of the coveted 3.5 ounce rule.

At this point I figure it's my intimidating frame that warrants these interrogations which continually inhibit me from stepping through a metal detector undeterred.

"Our job is to put lipstick on the pig and take it to market."
Thank you Gordon Paddison of New Line Cinema for making the most of Monday's afternoon panel at OMMA regarding marketing turmoil and marketplace uncertainty. Paddison's lively demeanor broke every attendee from their lunch coma and livened up the Grand Ballroom at the Renaissance Hotel in Hollywood. Paddison charged media planners and buyers with the task of putting together more valuable cross platform marketing efforts, and by most accounts, he succeeded in his task.

My personal highlight of the two day event was the poignant presentation by Initiative West president Alan Cohen. His "Make Magic Out Of Moments" speech delivered fantastic insights into the organization of the modern media agency, and the effects of brands making the most out of the multitude of touchpoints (I hate that term) with their customers. Needless to say, his speech gave a fantastic plug to a small strategy firm based out of 655 Montgomery Street in San Francisco.

Cohen's key buzzword was "digital breadcrumbs," circling back to his idea that advertisers should make strides into going where their customers are already, like social networks and the mobile space. His speech killed, and I plan to quote him for years to come.

Day Two finished with some entertaining creative presentations from legend Chuck Porter and Schematic's Dale Herigstad. Both left the crowd eager for more Burger King commercials and video game displays respectively.

And to the airport I returned...

“We will now be dimming the cabin lights to further enhance the attractiveness of our two male stewardesses’.”
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I walked up to the head stewardess and took his mic away while he was doing his cleverly crafted safety speech and told him to shove his tiny bag of peanuts...you get the idea. The speech where he makes all his brainy jokes about how if you’ve been in a car since 1962 then you should know how to work a seatbelt, and how if your husband is acting like a child, then secure your oxygen mask first, then his. I often envision this stewardess sitting alone in his studio apartment with his cats writing up these little quips of distraction to hide the fact that there is a chance we could all careen to death at 300 miles per hour and end up dying next to someone we don’t know and think smells a bit like old turkey.
At least I got a Section 1 boarding pass.

Until next time...