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)