California Diary Day 1 (2/13/04)

My company sent me on a week long business trip to sunny California recently. Here is an account of that week.

Obviously, to get to San Francisco, you have to fly; something I haven’t done in God knows how many years (well before 9/11). Honestly, I never really had to fly; everything I needed—family, friends, school, work—was all located in the Northeast. So I was a little nervous—not of flying, or even terrorists—but of going to the wrong terminal and ending up trapped in Boise or Tulsa.

Thankfully, I get on the right plane for my connecting flight to L.A. Everyone told me to buy headphones to amuse myself, but when I learned the in-flight movie was Wimbledon, I figured I’d save myself five bucks. After all, I had the last 200 pages of The Fortress of Solitude, so I’d just read and maybe take a nap. No problem, right?

Big problem. Did I mention this was a six and a half hour flight? I found out I have a hard time reading on flights, what with the turbulence and noise and general discomfort of coach. I found myself staring at the TV monitors and trying to figure out the basic plotline of the silent Wimbledon, which turned out to be remarkably easy. The I watched silent episodes of Everybody loves Raymond while this old Italian guy with huge nose hair guffawed like a horse. It was a long day.

I hung around LAX for an hour and bought an US Weekly to kill some time. What a rag. How can anyone read this shit? I’m not trying to be an elitist—remember, I’m a pro wrestling fan. But this was the stupidest, most vapid waste of paper I ever had the displeasure to read. Really, who’s entertained by features like “Stars—they’re just like us!” (Really? Get out of here!)

Plus I sat next to a couple with a small baby that started crying, and the parents found it a more prudent course of action to just stare at their kid instead of just, I don’t know, picking him up.

I make it to San Fran and thought the airline lost my luggage. I thought my bad was jet black as opposed to light silver. I was ready to start crying until I saw one bag on the terminal—I zipped it up and saw my clock radio. Thank God.

I had a taxi service take me through Oakland and to Walnut Creek, California, and the Embassy Suites hotel where I was staying. I was so tired I went to bed at 8, not even staying up to watch The Simpsons.

End of day one.