I'm writing this from about 34,000 feet as I make my way west for a trade show in San Diego for the next few days. I have never been to this particular show before, or to San Diego for that matter, so don't really know what to expect. Most of my understanding of southern California is based on television shows set in the area that I watched as a youth. Of course, most of those shows were from the 1970's – namely CHiPs and the opening scenes in Love Boat where passengers are boarding, Julie is telling them whether they are destined for the luxurious suites of the Promenade Deck or sentenced to the slums of the Lido Deck, Gopher and Doc are ogling the women traveling alone, and Captain Steubing is inviting everyone he mets to have dinner at the Captain's Table*.
So I'm fully expecting to arrive in a city full of people throwing streamers and confetti at me, only to catch a cab and be driven down the freeway to the hotel, dodging multi-car pileups every mile or two on the way there. It should be an exciting time!
We just flew over my grandma's house too! Hi grandma! So weird to be totally able to see her house from this high...
The captain on this flight is really chatty. It started when we ended up being on a particularly long taxi trip around the runway. Apparently about 8 flights all left at once and ended up jockeying for position out of the gate. Lacking that killer instinct, our pilot ended up being last into line. But frankly, I don't think that is a bad thing for someone who is going to be responsible for making sure the plane doesn't crash, or land in Canada by mistake.
One of the flight attendants just stopped to rave about how cool my iPod cover is. Like most things I own that could be considered “cool” the GF got it for me. It's regular plastic, but it looks like woodgrain, so I get lots of use of the “Oh, this is a special wooden iPod designed for the Amish” bit. Sure, not the most original piece of comedy, but it's usually good for a chuckle.
I'm writing from my room a the W now. All I can say is that the approach into San Diego is the scariest I've ever gone through. Basically, the pilot noses down at such a sharp angle that you're convinced the plane has been commandeered by evil and is about to crash right into downtown. You practically fly through downtown, weaving between buildings, and only at the last minute do you pull up and plop onto the runway. I think I aged about 10 years on that landing. Suddenly, the delays in and out of O'Hare seem tranquil by comparison.
Now, off to the booth babes!
* Because in truth, he is a very lonely man.