National Lampoon’s Trip to San Fran

I booked a weekend in San Francisco back in December so that I could attend a course offered by the Center for Right Relationship.  The course I was taking was going to be huge for my coaching practice, and as it was only offered in North America in January or September, I wanted to jump on it sooner than later.

I booked my holidays accordingly and found a few swanky hotel deals to make it a bit of celebration weekend for myself – things have been going well; certification is over, I would have been living on my own for almost a year, etc etc.  I was really looking forward to my getaway as well as the course itself, but Alaska Airlines had other plans…

I was to fly out Thursday morning and as I was leaving from Bellingham (I got a return trip for $250!), and we had been getting a lot of snow, I left my house at 3:20 am to get across the border and fly out.  I arrived at the airport and was told my flight to Seattle was cancelled – mechanical problems.  Apparently I have a viable case to get a refund for that leg of the trip.  I was told to jump on a shuttle to get to Seattle, and although that airport was completely shut down at that point due to weather, the people in Bellingham were (somehow) optimistic that it would reopen later in the morning and it would be fine.

I forked out some cash for a delightful shuttle ride; the bus got fuller and fuller and hotter and hotter as we stopped at every casino, hotel and outhouse on the way to Seattle (it seemed). I spend the majority of the ride next to a guy who was on hold on the his cell with Alaska Airlines and told his tale of woe to every single person who had ears on the bus as he did so.  The only thing missing from that ride was crates of chickens.  By the end of it, I was shouting inside my head “LET ME OFF THIS THING!”

We finally arrived at Sea-Tac and it was super pleasing to see that there was a 3km line weaving all around the airport of people trying to get re-booked on upcoming flights after learning theirs had been cancelled.  I had received a text and a phone call during the shuttle ride telling my that my flight was not leaving, but that I was automatically booked on a flight for 6:30 the following morning.  Rather than wait and wait and wait, I opted to have friends book me a room in a time-share thing they have (thanks K!) and grabbed a cab into the city.  I had been up far too long and was getting tired, but I wandered the snowy streets, killing time, until my room was ready late in the afternoon.  Not a super fun day, but I did pick up Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and camped out in a coffee shop for a couple of hours.

I finally got into the room and ordered some food, watched season 1 of Nurse Jackie (LOVE), and then collapsed for the night.  I had a cab coming at 4:30am to take me back to the airport…

I woke up Friday looking a fright: papery pale, pisshole eyes, and a sluggish body that was wondering what I was doing to it.  $50 later, I arrived at the airport again to find out that my flight had been cancelled (again), and that I had been rebooked (again).  Problem is, the rebooking was for a flight on SUNDAY morning at 7:30 – problem is, I needed to be in San Fran for my course that would begin SATURDAY.  How helpful of them to get me there a day before I would fly back!  Shouldn’t an airline with the word ALASKA in its name know how to fly in SNOW???

I spent the next couple of hours visiting every airline in the airport trying to get a flight out, and the only option I found was a flight Saturday morning at 6am – there was one seat left for $200.  I weighed going back to the city, killing another day, renting another room, handing over more money to my lovely cab-drive Tom (total sweetheart!) and opted to take some control: I decided to rent a car and get there myself.  I learned to drive in the snow, so I wasn’t worried about that, and I just wanted to GET THERE.

I rented a Buick Lucerne (the Crowne Victoria they gave me originally was old and dumb, and even with the (bench) seat pulled all the way up, I would have been driving on tiptoes all day and decided I was not going to be doing that) and it was quite nice and felt very solid.  I also made sure I had a GPS, and that thing saved me a hundred times as I navigated epic, Biblical rain all day…

So then I drove, and drove, and drove.  With minimal stops to wake myself up and grab giant coffees, I made it in 16 hours.

I dropped the car at the airport, and caught the BART.  Years ago, before Man and I had any money to even speak of (and even after we did), we would have big Date Nights at the Roxy Theatre in Victoria.  On Saturdays, they offered three movies for $5 and they had the best popcorn in the world.  The Roxy is actually an old porn theatre, complete with double seats that make you not want to think too much about what’s happened on them.  I bring this up because the BART was just as disgusting.  It had soiled and yucky seats, and IT HAD CARPET.   Just think about that for a minute.

I got off the BART, and it must have been close to midnight at that point.  I went to go above ground and wouldn’t you know, the escalator was broken.  I humped my 42 pound suitcase up THREE FLIGHTS of stairs.  Little had I known I wasn’t going to need 40% of what I packed and could easily have left it all at home…

I stepped out into Union Square and proceeded the 3 blocks to my hotel – The Westin St Francis (thanks for F&F rate, Sarah!) and twitched in line behind 5 other people and the Cashersons (they didn’t want the room put on their credit card, and instead counted out the cost in cash – in singles and 5′s, it would seem) – I had been awake for about 20 hours at that point, was utterly drenched from the rain, and all I could think about was breaking into the bottle of 7 Deadly Zins I had picked up back in Redding, CA.

The rest of the night goes this way: room service was running about an hour so I opted to just eat some food from my car trip, I got a leelte bit drunk and texted people at random about how much I loved them, I briefly considered eating a chocolate bar from the mini-bar but decided not to when I found it was $7.50, I ordered room service breakfast, I collapsed in a slightly drunk (ok, a lot) heap and slept.  I was in the room a total of 8 hours.

In the morning, I ventured out for coffee and wifi so I could let people know I was alive and not still on the road somewhere, ate the (very salty) breakfast that was delivered, and caught a cab to Corte Madera.  I saw a little of the city during the 30 minute drive to my course.

The course was super, although I would have liked to get more from it, but I do understand they want me to sign up for the rest of them.  I am QUITE schooled out at this point, so that will have to wait.  I chose that day to put my contacts in, and by noon, my left eye was having a vicious allergic reaction to the (brand new) lens.  By 6pm I looked like I had been shooting heroine all day.  I took out the lens, grabbed dinner and camped out in my room.  I had a coaching call to do for homework (thanks Lori and Clay!) at 8pm.  The call ended at 8:30 and by 8:38 I am fairly certain I was asleep.

My eye did not do well overnight; it watered and weeped and I woke up with it glued shut.  I went to Starbucks for a coffee, and someone asked me if I had been in a fight.  Awesome.  I spent the day flinching from the pain and wiping tears as they dripped down my face.

I ended the day at a lovely boutique hotel (The Diva) and picked up (completely flavourless) Thai food.  I fell asleep watching The Help on my iPad…

I had a few hours to relax the following morning; I was flying out in the afternoon and could leave my giant suitcase at the hotel.  I did a bit of shopping, shot some photos (below) and then headed, you guessed it, back to the airport.  I was going to get there nice and early just in case.

The agent at the counter informed me that because I had missed my flight on Sunday morning at 7:30 that the entire rest of my trip had been cancelled.  Super.  I told her a little about my trip down and she quite helpfully re-booked the rest of my trip and made it as direct as she could.  Wanting to get some work done, I cruised through security (you know, why don’t we just cut the shit and make everyone go through naked? You have to remove your belt, shoes and who-knows-what-else, wouldn’t it be easier to have us all in those white hazmat suits to clear the gate???) and settled in next to an outlet.

Then there was an announcement.  Oh, yes.  My flight had been cancelled.

I went BACK out of the secure area and then waited, I have no idea…2 hours?…for a shuttle to Oakland.  The bright spot was meeting Lynn – the nicest dude in the world from Seattle who drives a scooter and plays drums in a band – we spent the day together and he made it quite bearable (thanks Lynn!)  From there, I am happy to report it was quite uneventful.  I finally stepped on a plane in Oakland and arrived in Bellingham just before midnight.  Because my giant bag had been tagged WAAY before I flew anywhere, I really had no idea where it was even going, but I was eternally thankful that the comedy of errors did not extent to my luggage; it was waiting for me in Bellingham.  I grabbed a bottle of wine, filled Molly with gas, and arrived home to a very happy basset hound around 1am.  We had a cuddle sleepover.

Here’s what I learnt:

• I overpack – I could have brought a third of what I did and will do so next time.  Workout gear?  Who needs it?  As my friend Kirstin said last night: “Screw workout stuff.  If you want to work out, do it in your room, naked.”  Good plan, indeed.
• You have to laugh, otherwise you’ll cry
• There’s a Dr. Suess exhibit at some gallery in San Fran (I heard all about it on the radio in the car)
• I could have paid just a little more, flown out of YVR and arrived the same day I left.  You do indeed get what you pay for.
  

  Glorious weather in downtown Seattle

  

  Hmmmm.

  

  Westin Breakfast

  

  Diva Hotel

  

  Ahhhh...love The Diva