Well, this is it - the final wrap up.  I packed (for the most part) last night and just need to wash up and be on my way......  My plane leaves at 10:40 (yea!  another non-stop) so I booked a shuttle to the airport for 8:30 a.m.  I will have plenty of time in the morning.

    To end my day yesterday I got new neighbors at the hotel.  They moved in just before midnight - very convenient.  Apparently, their luggage consisted of many, many small backpacks or laptop bags because they needed to enter / exit the room about 10 times between 11:55 and 12:10.  Fortunately, my new neighbors are apparently well schooled in the fine art of courteous hotel travel, because they had no problem with conversing as loudly as possible and slamming the freaking door with every pass in or out of the room.  That being said, I was tired enough and suitably comatose from the California Pizza Kitchen dinner I had earlier that I was able to get to sleep fairly quickly following the move-in.  Luck for me they were either tired enough, drunk enough, or have been together long enough that there was to be no noisy sex this evening.

    Up bright and early I get off to the airport.  Checkout is uneventful, and my final phone bill in no way reflects the dozens of calls i made, so I'm pretty happy.

    The shuttle arrives, and Boris the driver has a shaved head and an unrecognizable European accent.  He is in a hurry.  Good.  There are already a couple people on board - I open the passenger door hoping to grab the coveted "shotgun" position, but alas, there's no seat there to even take!  I hop in the back with the other rabble, taking row 2 for myself.
    We're off, but as I surmised when I saw the empty van, we've got some stops to make.  First we stop to get Gretchen und Staad.  These poor folks have to limbo under the seat belt being worn by the lady in the front seat.  (I do not blame her - there is only a thin windshield between her and the pavement).  They sit next to me, and we exchange a cheery gutentag.  But Boris the driver is having none of this - he chases them to the rear seat, telling them "I'm Continental" - whatever that means.  So Gretchen und Staad are relegated to sit behind me.  The start to converse in their own language, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was - it was kind of Germanic, yet kind of French.  I was going to ask, but I wasn't that curious so I just sat listening to the melody and tempo.
    Next stop is for some COI type.  We again exchange pleasantries, and he's caught mid-seatbelt limbo by Boris and he too is chased to the rear bench with Gretchen und Staad.  Schweeet.
    Now we circle the block and stop at the Hotel Nikko.  I stayed there last year and it's pretty nice for SFO and for the price, but too expensive by Pioneer standards to stay there this time 'round.  We pick up Nice Japanese Woman.  She gets to sit next to me.
    Next stop was the Fairmont - amazing that someone staying at the Fairmont would actually stoop to public transport or a shuttle.  Sitting in the driveway is a limo that says "Virgin 7", leaving me to believe it's a shuttle for Virgin Airlines - someone is going to be traveling in style.  We pick a beret wearing, pony tail sporting guy, and he hops into the last front seat, so it's just NJW and me in the middle bench - not bad at all.  I am torn because the beret and pony tail want me to label him as a Debian guy here for the show, but the lack of a food-filled goatee / "beardlette" and the fact that he stayed at the friggin' Fairmont lead me to believe otherwise.
    Now were all full up, and I heave a sigh of relief as I hear Boris the driver tell home base that he has 8 and we are not stopping at HotelX and we are heading straight to the airport you farging bastage.  But in all honesty, we're still really early.
    I have not mentioned Potential Serial Killer w/Heads in Freezer.  He's in front of me, and looks like "everyguy" - nice pressed blue-checked shirt, J. Crew wind-breaker, haircut no less that 8.5 days old, Calvin Klein eyeglasses, etc.  I peg this guy as having been in town for a week of the filthiest gay sex he can find as someone's personal "suck pig", now jetting back to suburbia where he dances in front of the mirror Jamie Gumm style while collecting body parts of smooth young Asian boys in a chest freezer - and no one at the office thinks he's anything but the nicest guy.
    Then PSKwHiF says that his airline is "National" and I hear his accent and he too is from lands afar, so I then revise my assessment that he's just a tourist from Europe.  Now I really don't like him.
    Anyway - we're off to the airport, and the final stop at the Fairmont has placed us pretty high up in the hills of the Financial District.  I have not made mention of it as of yet, but Boris is quite the aggressive driver - this is very likely why Nice Lady in the front seat has been very careful about wearing the seat belt.
    We start to head down hill.  I am really POed that none of the photos of town came out, because unless you live in Pittsburgh (and possibly other cities like Portland, OR) you just can't imagine what it's like to drive on a 50 degree angle at 35 miles an hour in busy city streets.  Boris is well aware of the "fear factor" and does his level best to prove he's got skillz when it comes to bobbin' and weavin'.  At one point my body flushes with moisture as my adrenal glands signal danger - I'm impressed.  A few intersections and near collisions with trucks and BWMs really gets the busload of us chattering.  I learn that Pony Tail guy is from D.C., and Nice Lady Up Front is from "the midwest - where it's flat".  COI is quiet.  Gretchen und Staad are conversing in their own tongue - but I think that were all pretty glad when we finally make it to the freeway and Boris mellows out a bit, taking the second-to-the-left lane and allowing a steady stream of BMWs to blast past us as the YUPPIE crowd hurries to the office.  I'm not kidding - 50% of the cars were BMWs - only one remotely interesting me, a shiny red M3 2 door with a wicked looking dual exhaust and gills up front.
    So not only is the van we're in a "Cab of All Nations"  thanks to Boris's peppy driving style everyone on boards is on "High Alert" so the cab becomes a miasma of colognes/perfumes/deodorants/breaths of All Nations.  The 2 front-runners are NJW and Staad.  NJW has on some wicked perfume - it smells nice, but just too strong for 8:30 in the morning.  Staad, on the other hand, has apparently enjoyed a week of schnitzel and garlic bagels here in the City By The Bay - and he's been doing plenty of talking so there's something of a cloud hanging between up.  I am tempted to offer him a mint, but heavens knows I don't want to offend.
    We finally make it to the airport.  I give Boris a $2 tip - again, well worth the entertainment value.  I recommend it highly.

    I make it to the gates without issue. I am thrilled, as always, to see that not only has Professional Travel NOT gotten me exit row seating, they don't even have me in a window or aisle - I am in the center seat.  I look forward to 5 hours doing the T-Rex.  I hope I sleep....  I am concerned because I have had large quantities of fluids this morning and absolutely hate airplane rest rooms.  But on the bright side I am in the bulkhead seat, and I am on the "waiting list" for first class - so I can always take hope in that.

    Or not.

    So I get on board, take my bulkhead center seat, and prepare for the wait.  I was soon to find out what a wait it was going to be.
    People seems to board pretty quickly - better all the time.  he person sitting to the right of me in the window seat finally arrives - it's a young kid traveling alone.  He barges his way in, apologizing profusely and all that - I tell him not to worry that we have hours of being cramped ahead of us.  We chit-chat - he's heading back home to North Carolina via Cleveland.  I watch as he tried to plug his stereo headphones into the dual-mono jacks of Continental planes.  I tap him on the shoulder and give him my adapter - he says "Thanks - but do you have one?"  I tell him no - he'll be giving me that one back.
    Boarding progresses,  People get upgraded to first class - but not me.  Hmmmm... lots of activity in the cockpit though.  After a few more minutes (like 10:35 on a 10:40 departure) I bite the bullet and hop into the aisle seat - this might not be so bad after all!

    BZZZZZT!  Wrong Answer!

    Just when I expect them to be pulling the door shut, the Captain gets on the overhead and says something like this:

    Uhhhh..... (pause)
    Good morning folks.  Uhmmmmm.
    (pause)
    This is the Captain speaking from the flight deck.
    Uhmmmm. (pause)
    <click>(pause)
    Might as well tell you we have a bit of bad news.  (pause)
    (Don gets up and grabs his laptop bag and checks the immediate area around where he's seated insuring that he has collected any personal items he may have brought on board)

    ....and he goes on to haltingly explain that there's a "buzzer" or "klaxon" on the plane that they just can't seem to get to shut up.  He further explains that there's been some problems with the plane on the prior flight and he has decided in talking with the ground crew that it's best to fix it.  Duh.
    He then explains that the delay will be an hour, likely two, and turn it over to the SkyMuffins to give the rest of the bad news.
    Now the attendants get to tell everyone that they are screwed.  They say they will do their best to re-route those folks that had connectings in Cleveland, which is another way of saying that if Cleveland was your final destination you are going to be sitting on your ass until the plane gets fixed or is declared dead on the tarmac and they get a replacement.
    But - the good news is that we have our choice of snack bars near gates 25 or 36 to spend "up to" $8.00 on Continental.  Whoopee!
    Knowing what a mob scene it's going to be I bust ass getting to the snacketeria near gate 25 - it's ToJo's House of Ptomaine or something like that.  In a major coup I grab the last bottle of Snapple Iced Tea.  A pack of Chinese teen-age boys gets behind me, banging into me as they crowd in.  They grab some sammiches from the case where the drinks and pre-packaged sammiches are.  I am waiting for the <ahem> chef to show up so I can order the "All American Breakfast" (rubbery eggs, oddly formed meat substitute sausage (-or- cooked last weekend, 90% sodium bacon), equally rubbery "breakfast potatoes" and toast).  The place is filthy.  It looks like a snack bar that has been in continual operation for 10 years and it's never been closed down for a good top to bottom cleaning.  The cook shows up at last.  He looks like a taller version of the Asian guy that ran Arnold's for a brief time on Happy Days and was in one of the Revenge of the Nerds movies (the belch master? He just died a few months back).  Cook tells the guy in front of me - "breakfast over - build your own spaghetti now".
    Seeing the components that form the makings of "Build Your Own Spaghetti" I opt to step back to get a sammich.
    During this time the Chinese kids have gone on to the register and now a 40-something lady shows up, and upon seeing the Snapple on my tray, starts peering into the depths of the cooler cabinet looking for another.  I tell her I think I got the last one.  She emerges with a Snapple Pink Lemonade and playfully says to me "You suck!".  We laugh.  I like this lady.  As I start to look over the pre-compiled sammich fare I eye up the cooler and notice one of the upscale Snapple beverages ("Fire" or something like that).  I tell her that she can have the iced tea, that I'll be happy to have one of the bottled beverages instead- she says "You don't have to do that" and starts to reach into the cabinet.  She grabs a Budweiser and says "One of these?" and I say "Oh no - not for me" and grab the upscale Snapple drink and a tasty Pastrami on Rye.
    As I make my effort to depart I bump into a guy traveling with 2 small boys.  They were across the aisle from me on the plane.  He's obviously a conscientious traveler with the kids, and is actually a bit over concerned that they're in the way.  He apologizes as he tries to wrangle them in - I tell him "Hey - don't worry about it - none of us are going anywhere in a hurry".
    Now I'm off to the register.  In line in front of me is yet another parent with small kids, no doubt trying to figure out how to entertain them for the next 2 hours.  In front of them is a guy buying a muffin or something - the Chinese lady running the register tells him he gets $8.00 - wouldn't he like something else?  He cuts loose and gets a bottle of water.  The guy in front of me picks up his smallest lawn ape and points it at the muffins behind the glass.  The kid says "blewbewwy" and the seconds dad gets his feet on the ground he's off like a shot.
    I throw my stuff on the counter top.  The sammich is $7.00,  I have no idea what the Snapple deal costs, and I also grab a bag of "Real San Francisco Sourdough Chips" (Ranch flavor, of course - you wouldn't want to taste the sourdough after all...)  as I near the register, again having no idea how much they cost.  The little blewbewwy muffin kid in front of me blasts back from wherever and in a flash reaches up and snatches my boarding pass.  Before I have the chance to pimp-slap his ass back into diapers his dad says that's a no-no.  Lucky little ankle biter.
    I present my ticket stub to the nice Chinese lady at the register.  For about the 15th time in 2 minutes she says "You only get $8.00" and I tell her I know that.  My total is $13.85.  Once again I groan aloud in public, and several others in line utter a few words of equal incredulity.  I say "Holy cow - I hope you guys are taking some of that home".  She says - no, were not - we wish we were!  I ask her for a receipt.  She explains that she has to give it to the airlines and starts making motions like she's going to hand write one for me.  Eyeing up the line I decide to call it a loss and tell her it's OK, not to bother.  I give her my change. I can only imagine the amount of grief she gets from customers - no wonder there's no prices posted on anything.
    I leave the food grabbing area and head to the equally grungey looking "dining area".  I see that the "You suck!" Snapple lady is eating alone.  For a splinter in time I am tempted to ask her if I might join her.  I decide that I'd rather go back to the quiet area I was sitting in earlier, plug in LappyDappyDoo and enjoy a very leisurely lunch while I play a little FreeCell or possibly update my TravelLog in quiet solitude.

    BZZZZZT!  Wrong answer!

    So I'm sitting, back to the wall, facing the rows of chairs, in the same spot I was in earlier (as I typed this very page).  I put on the headphones and fire up the MP3z.  I notice that the very same lady that was here this morning is still here, now a few chairs down and working a PDA on a keyboard.  I also notice an airport employee trying to catch a few ZZZZs on a row of chairs - other than that we're alone.   I am leisurely re-constructing my pastrami and rye as I add yellow mustard and mayo.  I dump my bag of Real San Francisco Sourdough Chips (Artificially Ranch Flavored) on my tray, crack open my upscale Snapple beverage and proceed to get my FreeCell on.
    Almost immediately I notice that a couple of young ladies sit in the chairs nearly directly across from me.  They seem to engaged in animated conversation.  Between "phat beats" I get snippets of conversation.  I continue to eat and defeat FreeCell while nibbling contentedly.  The food is surprisingly tolerable, but sadly even tasty food can harbor vile bacteria, so I will reserve full judgment until I am sure that it was, in fact, good.
    Next thing I know, one of these young ladies has joined me leaning on the wall.  Try as I might there's no fighting that Vanco kavorka!  Yeah baby, YEAH!!  Not wanting to seem impolite, I pick up and offer my tray and ask "Chip??".  They find this funny.

    Turns out that both of these young babes have been clandestinely stalking me as I traversed the airport.  As exciting as I find this, my joy does not last long as I learn that all they want of me is a crack at my laptop. <sigh>
    I was soon to learn that my new visitors are none other than Ariela Morgenstern (mezzo-soprano, lord of the Karaoke, and self-proclaimed dodgeball enthusiast) and Lani Rowe! (that's "lonnie" - not "laney")  This pair of rascally young tear-aways are on their way to Alaska for a week of fun.  They give me the details of what they've been up to, it has to do with some theatrical production or other (Rococo Risqué I think it's called), but in the fury of the moment I forgot exactly what it's all about. (sorry girls - I'm old).  They were after my laptop because they had some photos from this production archived on CD and they were hoping that I'd let them glom onto my laptop for a few minutes so that they might enjoy them (I believe that Ariela had not had the chance to see that actual prints before this).
    I was certainly game, and asked if minded if I watched as well - and they were all for it.  They had CDs made with some software by Agfa.  It was actually pretty cool, it archived prints in several size formats and had a viewer and thumbnails and such, all packaged in a nice autorun package.
    The prints were all done with 800 speed film, which was perfect for the subject matter and the feel they were going for.  Both Lani and Ariela were having much fun looking at the pics, and I have to admit that they were for the most part pretty good.  There was only one PG-13 shot, but it was tastefully done.  They were kind enough to share with me one of the shots I found particularly good - that's Ariela looking provocative in the center (with kicky beret!) and Lani looking her bubbly best on the right.  The guy in the noose is their producer,  the chap in the back is Todd (I think?  man I'm old - or that Snapple was doped). Photo courtesy of and copyrighted by Heater Deane.
    We sat for a few minutes looking over the photos, the girls generally pleased, me adding color commentary here and there.  We then started to chat about several things (not the least of which was the sincerity of Ariela's conviction and dedication WRT the sport of dodgeball).  Being the loser geek that I am, we eventually got around to talking about Linux and software.  Lani asked me about running software under Linux, explaining the lack of love her and her associates have for Microsoft.  I try to portray the role of passive agnostic, but, of course, I am secretly delighted to hear this.  Death to the Convicted Monopolist!
    They were gracious enough to submit themselves to some "peer review" of my work, so I showed them my "Conference Classroom Session Guidelines" and they seemed to genuinely enjoy it.  I don't know who once said: "Laughter is much better than applause - Applause is almost a duty, but a laugh is a true reward" (or something like that) but at any rate it was nice to hear people enjoying my writing, especially these total strangers much younger (and exponentially more pretty) than I.  I felt pretty happy about that...
    Oh - and they did take me up on my offer of some Real San Francisco Sourdough Chips.  Ariela apparently on the same mental wavelength as me turned to Lani and said enthusiastically "They're Sourdough!  And they're really from San Francisco!".  That girl has a real future in the arts.
    But all good things must come to an end and eventually the girls had to pack it in and head for their flight.  We exchanged good-byes, me promising to write, etc.  I hope that next time I am in town Ariela and Lani are still around - I really want to see a dodgeball league in action.  Perhaps we'll "do lunch"!

    If you girls see this page - thanks for providing the brief bright spot in my otherwise dreary day.  Thank you also for doing a little to restore my faith in human nature.  Perhaps people don't suck as much as I think....

    But airlines - well, they definitely suck.  As I type this line it's now 2:57 local time.  I should be in the air.

    BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!  Way wrong answer.

    After cleaning up my mess and heading back for a status update I learn that there is no new news.  Not wanting to walk all the way back to the spot I just left (after all, I need to be close to the gate to hear the soon-to-come announcement that the plane is fixed don't I???) I opt to sit somewhere near the gate.  I find a seat near an outlet and there's no one else near it but some COI who's not plugged in.  I sit, go through the motions of unpacking my laptop, power cord and all that crap and plug in - only to find that it's a dead outlet.  I am sure that the COI knew very well that it's dead, but did not feel the need to interact with someone so obviously below his station to let me know that I was wasting my time plugging in.  I grab my shizzy in an unruly pile and proceed to walk the entire gate area, and the only other outlets are in the poles in the near-center of the area.
    So I walk a few paces out of the terminal area and find an open port behind a broken eTicket machine.  I plug in and sit for a few minutes.  Paranoid that I'll miss the all-important announcement (it's now noonish and the update was due at 11:45) I decide to forgo the tunes and leave my headphones off.  I ask the young lady next to me if there's been any update - she says nope.

    After a few minutes we get the update via the public address system.  We are going nowhere soon.

What she said: "Ladies and gentlemen blah blah blah blah sorry blah blah plane blah blah... etc. "
What I heard; "You are all deeply "F"'d "

    We are presented 3 options:
    - sit at the airport until the 11:30p.m. flight leaves
    - sit at a local hotel until the 11:30p.m. flight leaves
    - sit at a local hotel until the 9:30a.m. flight leaves (tomorrow morning - duh)
    We all get in line, the young lady next to me having missed the announcement as she was on the phone.  I give her the good news.  As we stand in line I learn that she lives near Columbus and was expecting a ride back home (from Cleveland) from her mom.  Bummer.  She has been in town staying at The W on someone else's nickel.  Nice for her!  I tell her it's like $280/night minimum.  She says the cost was justified because the guy she had to put up with was from Texas.  She's been here a week - her entire luggage is in a gym bag slung over her shoulder.
    I call OnePass while I wait, and they tell me I'm already re-ticketed for the 11:30 flight, and the best they can do on any flights, including code shares, is get me to Minneapolis.  Close, but no cigar don't cha know?  Oh Super.  Ya.
    I finally get my crack at the counter and after talking it over I decide to stay at the airport as opposed to "kicking it free-style" at the local Holiday Inn or Best Western.  The deal is that the plane that I was one absolutely has to be in Cleveland - so no matter what time it gets fixed it's going to take off.  So, at the very worst I will have to hang out here until 11:30 tonight (8 more hours!) or I might get lucky and get out sooner if they can fix the plane and shove it off the dock.  While I certainly don't want anyone to rush a job fixing the plane that has to carry me 2161 miles, I really hope that the job goes quickly and I get out of here by 5:00 or so.  I do not relish the though of what my rest is going to be like for the next day......

    <SIGH>  Back to FreeCell, or perhaps Mahjongg for a while...... like 6 hours.
 

(see part two)