A Tourist Wanders San Francisco - Part One: On a Plane

My eyes sprang open 20 minutes before the alarm would irritatingly shake me out of restless slumber. I had tossed and turned throughout the night, my head filled with bad dreams and grand adventures, kept me from sound sleep. Night still lingered in the early morning and no one in the house was conscious of my last minute preparations as I was getting ready to head off to unknown escapades. I kissed my ladies goodbye, quietly slipping out the front door into the morning dew and rain stained streets illuminated by orange fluorescent streetlights. From the driveway I said my goodbyes again.

I pulled away from the curb driving my black oxidized Honda into the blackness and listened to Nori on the AM radio discussing the future with a psychic;

"Tell me who is going to win the election? Can you put that out there? Are you willing to make that claim?"

“Of Course,” said the confident psychic, “ I have picked the president correctly for the last 20 years. Though I have always picked the popular vote president and didn’t know that I was doing so, until the debacle of the 2000 election. I have to say though that I am getting a weird feeling about this one as I see two people becoming president and I’m a little confounded I’m not sure why that is… But, Hillary will be the next President. I met Obama this year and thought what a great man. I felt he would be president too…

I wish I were this confident about the future.

It’s good entertainment for 3:30 in the morning. Who knows maybe they will both be president this year.

I drive up and down lonely LA streets that drift under freeway overpasses hoping that I’ll find Hindry St. before I’m late for my plane. I’m here 2 ½ hours early. Finally I spot a darkened street that looks more alley than street and find a little sign that confirms my worst LA fears; Hindry St. I make the right and venture down the bleak alley in a daunting LA neighborhood. Bad B movies come to my mind as headlights hit graffitied walls; think Judgment Night and Escape from LA.

There at the end of the alley is my parking garage. Damn! I was hoping I had the wrong directions.

After I had reserved my spot a couple day’s prior, I started reading customer comments online; 2 out of 5 stars. 45-minute wait…they stole My CD’s…I waited around forever and the manager said he didn’t care. I barely made my flight.

I was cautious to arrive so early, I had places to wander off and explore and did not want to miss my voyage. When I pulled onto the lot though, there was a shuttle waiting for me! I suppose that at four in the morning on a Tuesday there wasn’t much of a crowd.

Ten minutes later, I was standing at the Virgin America loading area. Virgin America allows you to check in online and print your boarding pass 24 hours prior to arrival. On top of that I had no bags to check in, so I by passed the whole ticket counter ordeal. The only wait I encountered was having my backpack, Jacket, and Doc Martins searched and x-rayed.

It was a quiet morning at the LAX; I’m up and ready to fly before the throngs of businessmen and vacationers. The usually cramped halls were filled with some lingering red-eye flyers, janitors, sparse early birds, and shop workers getting ready to open up. I sit down and open my bag, pull out a book on Tales of California, put in the ear buds and listen to my favorite LA song; why you’d want to live here

I'm in Los Angeles today...It smells like an airport runway.Jet fuel stenches in the cabinand lights flickering at random.I'm in Los Angeles today...Garbage cans comprise the medians of freeways always creepingeven when the population's sleeping.

A young lady sits down two seats from where I am. She is dressed in a black pin-stripe suit with brown hair cut shoulder length, a classy thirty-something businesswoman. She looks nervous and somewhat unsure. Why is she sitting so close? There are seats everywhere. I’m a little bothered and annoyed by her presence into my space.

“Excuse me,” the pin-striped business woman intrudes into my world and I brace for unwanted small talk, “you wouldn’t by chance be going to San Francisco would you?”

“Yeah, I’m going there.” I reply abruptly as possible, so she gets the hint that I’m not interested in airport chitchat to make the time go by. I have moments that are wrapped up in a couple of hours to myself and she was an uninvited guest in my grand exploration.

“Is this the right place? I can’t find it on my boarding pass?”

As illogical as that might sound, I had the same problem. So I assure her that this is the place to wait. Apparently, she wasn’t into prolonging the conversation either or she could read the disinterest in my face; she said thanks, picked up her belongings and headed towards the empty check-in counter. I picked my book back up to read about the Emperor of America who roamed the streets of San Francisco.

Boarding time. We gradually make our way onto the plane. I move to 11A the seat I had picked out online; it’s a window seat overlooking the left wing. Some people prefer to not see the wing; not wanting to see impending tragedy before their life is cut short. I want to know, I want to know if a wing cracks, or see the flock of birds that will rip through the engines and bring me to my ill-timed fate.

The pinstriped businesswoman loading her luggage into the overhead compartment blocks me from getting to my seat. She is settling in for the hour flight…again, two seats from me. We share row 11. I put away my jacket and uneasily settle in to my seat. We nervously smile our pleasantries at one another. It going to be a long hour of awkwardness, guilt is settling in from how I snubbed her in the airport and I am now trying to think of how to correct my rudeness by making small talk. Nothing comes to mind so we sit there uncomfortable stewing in our own quietness.

Thank the heavens for technology. My distant two-seat over, traveling partner and me are now lost in fiddling with the monitors in front of us; CNN and Jimmy Eat World videos are my selections- however, I’m the only one on the plane with a broken monitor. So I pull out my Ipod and inject my favorite flying song into my eardrums:

Air traffic control it’s me
Coach Class row 13
I have this sinkin’ feeling
Is everything alright?
Stare at the wing and think
If there’s babies all survive

I am prepared for take off.

Rain was expected. Even in the gray-lit morning dawn I could see the storm clouds bivouacking over the city unwilling to let the darkness of night flee. I braced for turbulence as we ascended to our intended heights, but there was nothing.

From the window I could see the pacific stretching throughout the distant horizon. The rumbling nimbus clouds rolled over the pacific; from my view I could no longer tell how to separate one from another. The January dawn burned up the western horizon with its brilliant reds and oranges hanging over the Channel Islands. In all its majesty and awe- I was quickly tired and bored; ready for our descent back into the world.

As we closed in on our destination,the looming gray clouds filled my window seat view, drowning the vast sea out, there is only the dreary gray suspended below. There are no beautiful landscaped horizons or man made wonders to look for from my seat, there is only the gray. I’m beginning to wonder how much of an adventure this will be, the forecast was partial rain but it was beginning to look like my trip would be rained out and rained on. How much sightseeing, walking, dreaming can I do soaked; cold and shivering.

We begin to make our final descent through rain clouds and still no turbulence to rock us- calm and smooth. The captain Loops around and we make a near perfect landing. I’m here. For the first time in years without my family, away from home in a distant city and all I can think about is having them here with me.