Jet wash...

What a day. Arise at 3 AM, shower, eat a few Honey Nut Cheerios (yummy!), head out the door, 3:27 AM! Drive and drive and drive, 5 and 1/2 hours north to the City by the Bay. Can you believe it? That drive should take no longer than 3 hours, 45 minutes, but the TRAFFIC was horrific. I left so early that I thought I would avoid most of the crazy commuters, but, well, you see, I, umm, how do I say this, I drank too much coffee (understandably so, some would say) and I had to PEE twice in the same hour. Now I am older than I once was, but NOT that old. Ok, ok, too much information, I know. But there was a reason I said that, hmmm, oh yeah, 15 minutes can make a huge difference in when driving to SF.

580. I have driven to San Fran many times, often to catch an airplane out of good old SFO, and usually in the morning. But it was NEVER this bad. I could make it, in my lead-footed days, in 3 hours and 30 minutes. Yes, it depended on traffic, but I always left early enough to get in before all the craziness began. But FIVE AND A HALF HOURS? No wonder I had to go to the bathroom so many times, I am surprised my children weren't all grown and married, like some weird, urban, traffic-congested Rip Van Winkle story. (Can you see me, asleep in my "ancient" Dodge pick up, drooling out the right side of my mouth, rotted Starbuck's cup disintegrating in my hand...SLAP, SLAP, "wake up, sir," says the space aged CHP, as he writes me a ticket for vagrancy!). What a mess. Traffic, that's one reason to LOVE Visalia.

Our idea of a traffic jam is Mooney Blvd, southbound between Walnut and Whitendale during the Christmas shopping season. But we have no clue, really, how bad it can get...

So I get to my meeting, ONE HOUR LATE, having called they are suspiciously gracious, but welcome me into the room anyway. I called ahead to tell them my tale of traffic constipation, I mean conflagration, oops, congestion, so they are thinking I at least had a passable lullaby, I mean alibi. Still, with my usual aplomb, I awkwardly introduce myself to the five people in the room and notice immediately they all look so serious, pale and, well, with Halloween just behind us, i thought I landed in some strange time warp, sorta like old Rip, but for aged Trick-or-Treater's like myself.

Meeting ends, we shake hands, I walk out wondering if the 5 and 1/2 hour drive was worth the trouble until ... I walk out the door of the Westin Hotel and see a glorious blue sky before me. Add to that a perfect, I mean crystal clear view of the runways to San Fran's airport and I am in dreamers heaven! Oh lookie, there's a path along the bay which will only enhance my view of the sky, the planes and, ewwwww, never mind.

So I begin what will be a 45 minute stroll on the bay side pathway just south of the airport. Planes by the dozens queue up, rev their engines, wait their turn then BLAST skyward for unknown destinations. A 747 lines up on 280, beginning what will be some journey long into foreign lands and I wonder, would I like to be going wherever they are? Asia? Not so much. Not a fan of squid, and other things they call food. Europe? Yes, anywhere in Europe would suit me. Venice, Paris, Rome, Vienna, are all on my list. I breath in, catch the faint scent of burnt jet fuel and let it wash over my mind like sleep to old Van Winkle himself.