Up two hours earlier than usual, deal with essential morning stuff, leave the house about the time I normally start to think about waking up, drive to San Francisco Airport in plenty of time for my flight to Ruritania International (actual destination omitted to protect the client's identity), arrive on time, meet up with the boss's brother, proceed to a small town in Inner Ruritania, find the small unmarked building we're looking for, get the tour, have a productive discussion with the owners, return to Ruritania International about 40 minutes before flight time, check in, have a few minutes for reading before boarding commences, get on plane, arrive at Regional Hub on schedule, find the gate for the connecting flight, grab a slice of overpriced airport pizza, dig out the laptop and hook it up to the cellphone (Ruritania International had banners advertising free Wi-Fi, but I didn't have time to check it out; Regional Hub has Boingo, which redirects to what I assume is meant to be a show-me-your-credit-card page, but it was broken, at least with Konqueror), make a quick scan of e-mail and news, return to reading the book I'd brought, board the third plane of the day, return to SFO about 15 minutes early, get home about 1-2 hours past normal bedtime.
Whew!
Three planes in a row running on time, with no sitting around burning fuel while waiting for a turn to take off, and no problems with security. (Flight #1 was Skywest as United; #2, Skywest as Delta; #3, Delta.)
The seats are still made for people without shoulders, though. Luckily, on flights #2 and 3, the seat next to me was vacant.
Oh, and the windows on the CRJ200 are evidently meant for children, or at least for someone a lot shorter than I am (and I'm not exactly uncommonly tall).
I was a little confused to find that the flight from RI to RH had two numbers, with the same digits but not in the same order; the sign was showing both, but the number they announced wasn't the one on my boarding pass... but, it was at the right time, from the right gate, to the right destination, with the right airline, they let me get on, and there wasn't somebody else in my seat, so I guess it must have been the right plane.
The real confusion: SFO. The signage there sucks like a bilge pump. I wanted to park in short-term parking for Domestic Terminal 3, which I think should have been Garage F... but following the signs for "Short-term parking" got me dumped in Garage A, with an option for Garage G. OK, so I park in A, and head for the terminal. Now I'm in International Terminal A, and there don't seem to be any signs directing me to the domestic terminals. So, I wander around, and eventually find the "AirTrain" thingie (not to be confused with AirTran, for which there were also signs), which goes around in circles and eventually delivers me to Terminal 3. Getting off the plane, I'm confused again, and it take me quite a while to find the AirTrain. Then, exiting the garage, I attempt to follow the signs for the freeways, discover that signs are sparse and often lacking arrows at complex intersections, and find myself driving a long way past a cargo terminal with no reassurance that the road eventually leads to the freeway, which I can see just over there on the left, if only my car had a teleport button. Yes, the road did connect to the freeway, but having some clear signs along the way would have been nice.
Well, I don't in fact seem to be sleeping in this morning... got a bunch of stuff to write up for work. It was a highly educational meeting. Apart from the work stuff, I established pretty well that I don't have any latent vegetarian tendencies... and, surprise surprise, that NIMBYs can be a wildly dishonest bunch. (Elaboration may follow, with identifying details suitably scrubbed to protect the client from militant NIMBYs and other radical elements.)
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