The Dock of the Bay


The Trip before the Trip – San Francisco, California

The Painted Ladies

At midnight on Thursday, after sitting on a plane for over 6 hours I looked down on what was supposed to be San Francisco. The Pilot was explaining that we had been circling for some time over the city covered in thick fog and now we were out of gas and going to Oakland to fill up (which was even foggier, but there was no line to land). Being an East Coaster, I don’t know exactly how Oakland fits in with SF (well I do now) so when we landed and were informed that we were getting gas and would be back in the air to SFO eventually I wasn’t sure what to do. “How much is a taxi and how long is the ride?” …”Oh wait, the BART runs all the way here?” So I got off at Oakland.

the BART at midnight - not too sketchy

Now, my friend had a town car meeting her at the airport that I was supposed to jump into, so being down-grading to a 45 minute commute on the subway at midnight, or 3am according to my internal clock, was low on my list. As I was running with bags to make sure I made the last train a thought came over me: this is going to be my life for the next several months – dealing with it in the U.S. is good practice – at least the directions are in English. After arriving at my stop and following a very stubborn blue dot on my iphone in every direction but the right one, and then finally dragging my bag in correct direction (up a 20 degree inclined hill for several blocks), I made it to the hotel. I found Michelle, changed my shirt and despite every bone in my body begging me not to, we went and grabbed a beer and at a great pub – and then, just like magic I felt completely content.



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