You know it’s going to be a long day when you have to wake up at 5:45 for anything. That’s the spot I found myself in yesterday morning when I woke up in Millbrae, California, about one mile from the San Francisco Airport. I was supposed to be on a 7am, non-stop flight back to Boston, which would have landed me here about 4:15pm. So the alarm goes off and I jump up, in a daze, take a quick shower, check out and return my rental car. I get into the airport at 6:15am and I can tell something is wrong right away – it’s 6am and the airport is just mobbed. Like “workday at 8am” mobbed. I’ve flown out of SF a few times on this 7am flight and I’ve never seen anything like this.
So I do the self check-in, and the piece of paper comes out of the machine and says “see the ticket attendant.” Now I know I’m in trouble. There’s one guy working and people are surrounding him and randomly shouting out questions and proclaiming their life will be over if they don’t make their 8am flight. Poor dude. I stand there patiently, because I know my flight ain’t leaving at the scheuled time. And oh, was I right. Flight cancelled. “But there’s another non-stop Boston flight leaving at 1:30 if you want to wait.” I don’t want to wait 7 hours in the airport, no.
So I take a flight into Dallas, which leaves SF at 10:15. I wait in Dallas. Wait. Wait. Take a 4:30 flight and finally land in Boston at 9pm last night. For those of you keeping score at home, that’s a 15 hour travel odyssey, for a trip that normally takes 6-7 hours. Fun fun.
This morning, I feel like someone hooked one of my belt loops onto a NASCAR racing vehicle and dragged me around the track a couple of hundred times. Tomorrow I close on my house. Then Thursday it’s right back on the airplane to Atlanta. Good times, good times……
Song now playing: Son Volt – “Picking Up The Signal”