1958 chevy impala
looking forward to pomona next month. wondering if it will rain. wondering if i’ll have time to go. my life is very much a day-to-day mystery of where i’ll be and what i’ll be doing anymore.
got this backend shot of a fifty-eight last month. nice car, but i just like this piece of it right now.
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well, here i sit all down-hearted...in san francisco, but my heart isn’t here...he’s in whittier.
can’t say it’s all been downhill, but the trip sort of started that way. mom dropped me off at the airport after work yesterday. all good, short security line, plenty of time to sit on my ass and figure out what i was going to do in the evening. the one hour flight was supposed to take off at five, so i was going to hold off eating until i got to the city, and planned to go get a crab from the dudes with the big boilers outside at fisherman’s wharf.
plane boarded right on time. pushed back from the gate just a bit late, and started rolling toward the airfield. then the plane stopped. figured we were just in line for take off. nope. mechanical problems, heading back to a gate, but we had to wait to get an open gate now.
cap’n crunch in the cockpit says they hope it is just a matter of rebooting the computer, but has to wait for the mechanics to board and clear it. yup that’s what it was, but then we had to wait for offical paperwork and clearance before we could get going.
the guy sitting next to me was having coniption fits as he was going to miss his connection to sacramento. was up at the front door trying to change his flight plans for a good twenty minutes. he should have taken his crap with him and just left, but it was all the way at the back of the plane with me.
really hating the flights i’ve had to book through the travel agency at work. they are always double or triple the price of any flight you could book on your own, and pretty much every trip has had issues. bumpy rides aren’t their fault, but ya, there’s usually that too. we are required to use the agency, so whatever.
so, an hour and a half later, we were cleared for takeoff, and with sacramento man still onboard. he whined to the lady in the window seat, who had a connection to redding, but she thought she would still be able to make it. sacramento guy said the gate agent had booked him on a flight for seven am, but he was expecting them to put him up in a hotel. sure dude, maybe.
the flight was absolutely full, as were the overhead compartments, so i had been forced to check my bag at the door. at least they didn’t lose it. but i did have to go wait for it at baggage claim.
i’d intended to just ride the bart into the city, but now it was close to eight at night, and didn’t think it would be safe that late, especially when i’d get to my stop. never used uber at an airport and didn’t want to deal with that. work was paying for the ride, so i took a taxi.
named my hotel, and the friendly north african driver said of course he knew where it was, and started the fare and headed onto the freeway. he was listening to a podcast in his native language, which he’d occasionally translate the topic. sounded like one of those radio call-in for advice shows. women complaining about their men not helping more around the house, and the strict division of what was perceived as womens’ vs mens’ work. also learned a bit of his family history, with seemingly forced marriages and uncles offering up sibling’s daughters for marriage at age thirteen. wtf.
i’m looking out the window, and wondering about the route the guy is taking to the hotel. off the freeway, he’s taking us up the very steep hilly parts of san francisco; the hills where you are glad you are not driving a stick shift and get a red light. the hills almost as steep as a roller coaster at magic mountain.
passed grace catherdral, and as i’m wondering about that, he pulls up to a curb in front of the huntington hotel, and says here you are. i see the bell hop inside starting to open the door...i say this isn’t my hotel...i’m down by the water and the name, even in my mumble speech doesn’t sound anything like huntington. he just says oops, and makes a u-turn. of course the meter is still running. did he do it on purpose, or was he so distracted by his podcast? guess i’ll complain when i get home and argue the charge.
when i finally get to my actual hotel, he sits in the car a moment longer, so the meter clicks to the next amount before he stops it. bastardo. added an extra ten bucks.
no bell hops at the door for some reason, but i can handle one bag easily. it’s now about nine pm; i’d had my better half call ahead to let them know i’d been delayed. check-in was quick, and i got a room on the top floor as requested, just had to walk a hella long way around the hallways to got to the room at the opposite end from the elevator.
small room, but it was expected, since i was alone. through my stuff down, and headed back out. i was starving. didn’t think the crab guys would still be cooking this late on a thursday in the off-season. ended up at in-n-out, which had a line, but still had some seating available. burger was sort of not completely cooked, but i ate it anyway. fries were fine.
by the time i was back in my room, and ready to sleep, it was ten-thirty. meeting at nine-thirty in the morning, i’d planned to get up early for a shower and time to find breakfast on the way.
alarm goes off, reluctantly get ready. it’s cold, even with the heater on, it doesn’t really manage to cut the chill. probably didn’t set it high enough. thinking about where to eat while i dry my hair, i remembered i also needed to get on a teleconference at eight. no breakfast for me. well, i did grab a donut at krispy creme, but that doesn’t count.
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getting late now, and i’m super tired. will write more tomorrow.