California Dreaming

My flight landed at San Francisco International fifteen minutes early. Not the first time this has happened to me, but considering it was after midnight local time, and I was ready to lay me down to sleep … my poor legs were grateful. They had managed to remain immobile for five hours at seat 32A, two rows from the end, while the completely clueless person sitting in 31A reclined her seat all the way back, almost in my lap. Now I am not a tall person, not even long of legs, but my knees pushed the back of the seat in front of me every time I had to allow blood to circulate in them once again. That meant I barely napped when it seemed most convenient. Instead, I caught up with Harry and his gang at Hogwarts, listened to some NPR: Selected Shorts, Garrison Keillor’s The Writer’s Almanac, and Bob Edwards’ Weekend. I glanced up every so often as two movies played: 17 Again and that one with Julia Roberts and Clive Owen … yeah, that one. It was no extra charge, but I decided on my choice of entertainment instead.

I slept well at the Best Western Grosvenor, a short distance from the International Terminal. The next morning, after a wonderful complimentary breakfast (eggs, sausages, potatoes, fruit and juice), I thought I’d drop Michael a line. He is in San Francisco until October for Medical Trauma School (caps mine). You’re George! Yup, got that. He and two friends of his were running the San Francisco Marathon tomorrow and I caught up with them at the Concourse Exhibition Center picking up some marathon gear. Undergarments for $100+. They settled for some space age snacks … designed to prevent hurling.

Then we drove to their B&B for the night on Haight Street. Quite the 60s scene with all the psychedelia and flower power art. A nightmare if you want to find a place to park. Temps were rather cool to slightly chilly. Initially, I thought I’d wear shorts today, but changed my mind after breakfast. I did wear my JMU shirt, not that anyone noticed. Then Mike, Rob & I took my rental down to Chinatown for my late lunch, their early dinner. After parking the car for $15, we kept walking all the way to Little Italy and settled on a hopping little establishment after perusing the menu on the window. It doesn’t take much for Italian chow to hit the spot, plus a helping of spumoni torte and tiramisu and cannoli … we were more than happy.

I dropped them off and thought I’d start my trek northward, but couldn’t get my GPS to take me to the Golden Gate Bridge. Besides, the fog had started to settle, so visibility at the bridge would have made the experience not so memorable. I decided to catch it on my way back next week.

So I am comfortably settled at an America’s Best Value Inn in Fairfield. I took a drive down to the nearest church, where I hope to catch the early mass at 7:30am. I stopped at a FoodMaxx to gather some supplies, then realized they didn’t have shopping baskets for those of us who weren’t in need of tubs of margarine and bundles of paper products to last till doomsday. I found a more convenient grocery store closer to the hotel.

Tomorrow will be here before I know it. It is now half past ten and I am not ready for bed. But I will be back on the road after mass. Maybe this time, I’ll have better luck finding my way to US 101. The sunset would have been gorgeous tonight if I had been able to stop to watch it. In any event, I am content to indulge my wanderlust again for a couple of weeks. I am always torn between the lure of the open road and the need to put down roots. I remember when any digression from the plan or the stated objective would cause my heart to race. Now, I am more at ease … and loving it immensely.

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