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Sunday, April 27, 2014

A day of flying and not flying

Tampa to San Francisco

A not-too-auspicious start. Joyce hates to drive, especially to the airport, or anywhere involving an Interstate, so I took a cab. Of course, stopping over in the US, I had to pay a baggage fee, which is among the many reasons I haven’t flown since 2011, and won’t for the foreseeable future. Not saying never. Just saying I don’t even want to think about it right now. 

In order not to have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn, I had to arrange a change of planes, at Dulles in DC. Of course we landed late and my plane to San Francisco was already boarding when I got off my flight from Tampa and the next gate was about three miles away on concourses with no people movers. I am 61, weigh over 200 pounds, and was wearing a 20 pound backpack. I made that distance faster than I ever had to, or actually did, in the Air Force. Of course, I paid in stiff joints all over for the rest of the trip.

Oh, and guess what? When I arrived at the gate, they were deplaning! The air conditioning had quit! And then it was one excuse after another until we took off 90 minutes late. Of course I was drenched with sweat, and things didn’t get much better at SFO, where the baggage claim may as well have been on the moon, but at least I didn’t have to rush. The hotel shuttle came right away and delivered me only about an hour late. Aunt Marion had already been there for hours and had spent the day with my cousins, and their cousins, or somebody. She said she had a great time. I was just glad my delays didn’t cause her any trouble. We gabbed till about midnight and hit the hay, because we had a tour of San Francisco planned for the next day.

 

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