Arrived in San Jose late last night, thanks to a flight that got delayed an hour and a half. And by the way, Frogg's Travel Tip #45: if you can possibly avoid it, don't get stranded at Burbank Airport. There is absolutely nothing to do there, not even a good bookstore. There are maybe three places to eat--one of which is strangely called Chezzburgers. What IS a chezz, I wonder? Then there are two snack/magazine shops. That's about it.
(Odd bit of frogg trivia--when the OJ Simpson verdict was given, I was actually watching it at Burbank Airport.)
On top of the delayed flight, there were tons of people in suits lining up to be on my plane. Which isn't weird in itself, but they obviously all knew each other, like they had been to some convention or something. I found out later that some company had had a big meeting at Universal Studios, and had flown down representatives from their NoCal location. And now all these people were (of course) on my flight. (And I thought I had cleverly avoided a crowded plane by booking a late Thursday night flight! Ha.) Moreover, they'd been drinking (which turned out to not be a huge surprise, seeing that their company is a big liquor distributor). And some of them were rude, like the (drunk) guy who pushed in front of me during Southwest's horrible cattle-call-style boarding process, and didn't even look at me or apologize. Oh, and he stepped on my toe, too.
I did not feel congenial toward him at all.
I should also mention that a man in overalls tried to get my phone number so that eventually he could solicit my help in writing documentaries about the homeless and the oppressed and so on, to show the truth to "the people." He was a little unclear on who "the people" were, but he was bound and determined to show them the truth. Not that he has actually written any documentaries, yet. That's what he needs ME for. Because he's not a good writer. And he was sorry he didn't have a card, but if I had one, he could get in touch with me and then (presumably) we could change the world.
I hope you will not be surprised that I did not give him my card.
Later on the flight, I had the chance to hear another drunk guy talking it up to the flight attendant, whose name was Brian. I know this because the drunk guy would yell it out from time to time. "Let me tell you something, Brian." "You know what, Brian?" "Brian, what do you think of my tie?" "No one likes me, Brian." I give Brian a lot of credit, because he did not, in fact, laugh uncontrollably in the guy's face, which I might have done. I was definitely laughing behind his back.
Well, there's one thing about traveling--do it often enough, and you are bound to collect some interesting stories.
But anyway, I made it to NoCal finally, and now I am rarin' to hit the slopes. This will be my first (and possibly only) chance to ride this season, so I have great hopes for an epic weekend. I may even try to take some pics for you, so stay tuned!