Tuesday in San Francisco, Detroit, Buffalo and Kitchener - May 7, 2013
On my last morning in San Francisco, I woke up early and lay there in the dark, thinking and absolutely unwilling to go home. Slowly the day lightened outside and I got up to get ready. After some brief texts back and forth to Jason (fogbear), I was downstairs checking out and waiting outside for him in the brisk morning.
I could not summon a smile. Everything was bittersweet and my lack of sleep never makes me positive. When Jason picked me up, my spirits lifted just seeing him and being thankful that he could deliver me toward home. We started a quiet drive to SFO. I awoke from my reverie and suddenly said something like "I'm both happy and sad right now." He replied "That's the best kind of vacation." It was a more complex conversation than that, but he understood. There was a moment when he laid a comforting hand on mine after I took a very sniffly breath and exhaled. I appreciated that.
During the drive, I saw some things I hadn't seen before. There was a sign for "Cow Palace" originally the "California State Livestock Pavilion." Jason pointed out the biotech company concentration somewhere along the way. We talked briefly about anything pointed out by either of us. For the most part I sat comfortably with my thoughts and the occasional glance at him from time to time.
At SFO, we parked outside the Delta domestic departures. I retrieved my luggage and I kissed and hugged him goodbye. He told me to visit again and I agreed that I would. I thanked him for being a great host. He protested that he had been so busy during my visit, so I thanked him instead for being a wonderful person because he was. You don't have to be always present to be a good host. I just enjoyed being around him, and soaking in all that he shared with me.
After we took a picture, I waited outside as got back into his car and pulled away, sharing a final wave.
Inside the terminal, I had no issues with check-in. Passing through security without my suspenders, my jeans fell down while I was standing in the vertical scanner. The TSA agent waited until I figured out how to brace my legs to hold them up while still standing in position. He didn't say anything about how dark my blushing face was.
I bought some snacks for the flight and something for the breakfast I was too nervous to eat when I got up. I found my gate and sat. As soon as I had, my memories, my feelings about leaving San Francisco, and the long day alone came boiling up from within and leaked out of my eyes for a while.
When my flight was to board, there was a twenty minute delay for no announced reason. We got on off the ground on time somehow, but the flight itself lost twelve minutes so we landed very late in Detroit. As I was finally able to walk off, I had one minute to get to my next flight before it boarded. Checking the boards, then the concourse on which I arrived, I realized I'd arrived at one end of one terminal and my connecting flight was on the far end of another. I ran as best as I could. Everyone along the path in the terminals and the connecting concourse got a free belly view at my shirt rode up out of my jeans.
I arrived at the gate, puffing and sweating, pulling my shirt back down when I finally noticed it. Only then did I realize that they were late boarding too. The scanner would not recognize my boarding pass as I wasn't listed on the flight for some reason. It took three reprints before the scanner accepted me and I was allowed to board.
Still panting, I slid into my seat. The gentleman who sat next to me was moved by the flight attendant as there was space to make everyone comfortable on the way to Buffalo. When I arrived at Buffalo airport, Delta redeemed itself. For the first time in my flight history, my bag was the first one onto the conveyor. I wasn't expecting that, so I had to run (again) after my bag before it disappeared back into the loading area. After a brief walk, I boarded my shuttle, got to my car and started driving home.
By this time, I was focused on getting home and anticipating sleeping in my own bed. My border crossing was uneventful. As soon as I could I pulled over and messaged my friend David (themacbear) as he always does for me when he returns from Buffalo. I was getting really tired on the two-hour drive home but I arrived safely just a bit before midnight.
I didn't sleep well even though I was tired, most likely because of the time change. I finally fell asleep, and got up as late as possible to start work on Wednesday. I managed a half-day before I had to take a nap. After work, I went to see David. He had cooked supper for me. Of all of my close friends, his presence was a requirement for me upon my arrival at home. I missed him an awful lot.
As vacations are measured in the outbound journey with new places to explore and people to meet, they are secured in the homeward trek with those comfortable spaces and familiar faces we left behind for a little while.
I could not summon a smile. Everything was bittersweet and my lack of sleep never makes me positive. When Jason picked me up, my spirits lifted just seeing him and being thankful that he could deliver me toward home. We started a quiet drive to SFO. I awoke from my reverie and suddenly said something like "I'm both happy and sad right now." He replied "That's the best kind of vacation." It was a more complex conversation than that, but he understood. There was a moment when he laid a comforting hand on mine after I took a very sniffly breath and exhaled. I appreciated that.
During the drive, I saw some things I hadn't seen before. There was a sign for "Cow Palace" originally the "California State Livestock Pavilion." Jason pointed out the biotech company concentration somewhere along the way. We talked briefly about anything pointed out by either of us. For the most part I sat comfortably with my thoughts and the occasional glance at him from time to time.
At SFO, we parked outside the Delta domestic departures. I retrieved my luggage and I kissed and hugged him goodbye. He told me to visit again and I agreed that I would. I thanked him for being a great host. He protested that he had been so busy during my visit, so I thanked him instead for being a wonderful person because he was. You don't have to be always present to be a good host. I just enjoyed being around him, and soaking in all that he shared with me.
After we took a picture, I waited outside as got back into his car and pulled away, sharing a final wave.
Inside the terminal, I had no issues with check-in. Passing through security without my suspenders, my jeans fell down while I was standing in the vertical scanner. The TSA agent waited until I figured out how to brace my legs to hold them up while still standing in position. He didn't say anything about how dark my blushing face was.
I bought some snacks for the flight and something for the breakfast I was too nervous to eat when I got up. I found my gate and sat. As soon as I had, my memories, my feelings about leaving San Francisco, and the long day alone came boiling up from within and leaked out of my eyes for a while.
When my flight was to board, there was a twenty minute delay for no announced reason. We got on off the ground on time somehow, but the flight itself lost twelve minutes so we landed very late in Detroit. As I was finally able to walk off, I had one minute to get to my next flight before it boarded. Checking the boards, then the concourse on which I arrived, I realized I'd arrived at one end of one terminal and my connecting flight was on the far end of another. I ran as best as I could. Everyone along the path in the terminals and the connecting concourse got a free belly view at my shirt rode up out of my jeans.
I arrived at the gate, puffing and sweating, pulling my shirt back down when I finally noticed it. Only then did I realize that they were late boarding too. The scanner would not recognize my boarding pass as I wasn't listed on the flight for some reason. It took three reprints before the scanner accepted me and I was allowed to board.
Still panting, I slid into my seat. The gentleman who sat next to me was moved by the flight attendant as there was space to make everyone comfortable on the way to Buffalo. When I arrived at Buffalo airport, Delta redeemed itself. For the first time in my flight history, my bag was the first one onto the conveyor. I wasn't expecting that, so I had to run (again) after my bag before it disappeared back into the loading area. After a brief walk, I boarded my shuttle, got to my car and started driving home.
By this time, I was focused on getting home and anticipating sleeping in my own bed. My border crossing was uneventful. As soon as I could I pulled over and messaged my friend David (themacbear) as he always does for me when he returns from Buffalo. I was getting really tired on the two-hour drive home but I arrived safely just a bit before midnight.
I didn't sleep well even though I was tired, most likely because of the time change. I finally fell asleep, and got up as late as possible to start work on Wednesday. I managed a half-day before I had to take a nap. After work, I went to see David. He had cooked supper for me. Of all of my close friends, his presence was a requirement for me upon my arrival at home. I missed him an awful lot.
As vacations are measured in the outbound journey with new places to explore and people to meet, they are secured in the homeward trek with those comfortable spaces and familiar faces we left behind for a little while.