: : home     : : reviews     : : days gone by     : : who?     : : contact     : : nobel reading project     : : photos    

posted 2 august 2002

27 july 2002

you are here

I guess you guys noticed that I couldn't find FTP access here, huh. Thus, slow on the update. Since writing this entry, I've done and seen SO MUCH STUFF, and am putting it all together for you to read in the upcoming days. I'll be back in town on the 5th (my birthday), okay? I also have a few reviews of smaller, less talked-about places in the area coming real soon, and the rest of our adventures.

So, where have I been? California, baby! Specifically, I am enjoying two fab-you-luss weeks between Mendocino (a very small coastal village, heavy on arts and delicous vegetarian grub) and San Francisco. I'm ready to call Two Men and a Truck already, and have them schlep my junk across the country so I can enoy these foggy mornings, cool days, and utter peace. I'm also among great company and staying in some darn comfy digs that overlook the Pacific Ocean. yes sir, we are suffering. Not.

Our trip started with a 5:00 a.m. EST wakeup call. Thankfully, we were staying with friends who live twenty minutes from the Raleigh/Durham Airport, and got a parking space in the state of North Carolina. (A rare and exciting event when parking at this particular airport.) We check in, and he finds food while I stare into space and drink a bottle of water. My stomach, I have learned, does not open for business until after dawn.

Time to board the plane. We are flying Southwest, and are in the 'A' seating group, meaning that we get first pick at seats. This is good for nervous fliers such as myself. I look for a group of fluffy people near the emergency exit. In case of an emergency, I'm cushioned and can get out of the plane fast. Rock on. My jo humors me, thankful that I decided to forego the usual three-drinks-before-boarding plan. Uncomfortable flying or not, I'm not really up for being drunk at 6 a.m. That's just gross.

We're all boarded, aloft, and things are going okay, except now I'm starting to get hungry. No sweat, as I'm sure the food 'n grub crew will cruise by shortly and throw me some crackers. I pick up my book and read patiently.

Ten pages in. Good book.

Forty pages in. Stomach is growling. Surrounding passengers looked nervous and began clutching their children.

At last, our flight attendant comes by to get drink orders. Twenty minutes later, we receive plastic shot glasses filled with our beverages of choice. Most of it evaporated during her walk from the back of the plane to my seat. Where food is concerned, I at least had the good sense to pack snacks. I ate some pistachios for breakfast, and washed them down with Southwest ice cubes.

Meanwhile, according to our printed itinerary, our flight lands in San Diego. But wait! We're making an unannounced scenic stop in Austin, Texas to stuff some more people in the overhead compartment and not give them food. We are not allowed to de-board if we're continuing onward. I crawl through the aisle toward the surliest of our flight attendants, begging for a bottle of water. Her response: "We're expecting our next passengers any moment now. It would be too hard for me to get water." I note that her personal vat of yogurt seems to have appeared with little effort.

We lift off again. My friend and I have a new flight companion, who happens to be on his way to San Diego to pick up a two-engine personal plane and fly to Wisconsin for an air show. From Austin to California, he proceeds to read a stack of diving magazines, then a How to Fly: Processes and Procedures for the Blah de Blah blah Plane. I say a little prayer for the guy, thinking he might have better luck on a commercial airline.

But what do I know, right?

Snacktime arrives! We're ecstatic as the happy flight attendants shimmy along, handing us all happy boxes! Blessed be! Cheese crackers, Oreos, and...um...squishy strawberry snack goo things! We dig into the boxes and start shoveling in the food...until we realized that there are no drinks forthcoming. The flight attendants are nowhere to be found. We are afraid.

Having devoured the contents of the box, we now feel faint symptoms of type II diabetes onset. it beats feeling faint, sort of. Within a half hour, Makeup and Co. deliver us some more shot glasses. I am smart this round and order two drinks, rationalizing my request with a handful of pills. Pills scare people. Need liquid? Carry a lot of them.

At long last, our flight lands in San Diego twenty minutes early. Woo-hoo! Water! Yee-ha! We look at our flight itinerary, dismayed. Our final flight to Sacramento departs in forty minutes, from a gate somewhere near the Arizona line. Exhausted and dehydrated, we hoof it to the commuter gate, and through security again, where I am patted down and asked to remove my shoes. Does this bug me? Not a bit. Hooray for heightened security. My big old cloggy shoes look like hazards. I'll own that.

Temporarily sated with some water and a banana, we board our final flight to Sacramento. A short flight, we get to chat with a friendly Santa Fe artist on his way to Thailand, are quickly given drinks and more salty snacks, and have an uneventful landing. The Sacramento airport is beautiful, filled with art and sunshine, and our baggage is ready for us by the time we get to baggage claim. Woo-hoo!

Not only that, but those Sacramento-ites have customer service down. It turns out that I had dropped my wallet somewhere on the plane--aagh! Upon immediately notifying the lost baggage people, they radioed the flight crew (who found it under some seats), and sent someone to get it for me. How nice and honest is THAT? The rental car lady was equally friendly, and we were on our way to lunch at a nice place called Max's Opera Cafe'. We were on our way to lunch anywhere, frankly, but happened upon some delicious food at Max's that really hit the spot. At last, we began our final leg of the journey: a four-hour drive through the coastal range, through a mind-boggling redwood forest, and down the coast to Mendocino.

We were exhausted. We were a mess. And we did not care, because to look over the porch of the house and see the Pacific nudging up against those cliffs...well, it's well worth the trip.

Since arriving here, we have hiked through a park filled with mind-bogglingly-hugeola redwoods, eaten stellar food, and enjoyed the local village and its music festival. i've also seen an osprey hunting for food over the Pacific, a palican who was successful finding lunch, and western jays the size of chickens. We're on our way to San Francisco for a few days very soon.