The Visible Woman...July 10, 2003

How could I forget how I hate flying and how much at the edge of disaster things seem in the airline system?

It just occurred to me yesterday...I hate to fly and I have to fly tomorrow. I was buying some decongestants which I have to take to adjust my ears when I thought about it.

This morning around 4AM as we went to the airport, I realized that just going to the airport makes you feel like a criminal anymore. I can't lock my checked luggage anymore. Nope a cable tie instead. That anyone in the system could cut off in a second to steal my stuff. Because the world is afraid of you and me and so we aren't allowed to protect ourselves. Or to have a laptop that isn't rattled bare over a conveyor belt. Or so it seems. I take my Swiss Army Knife (to cut the cable tie and for other uses) in an outside pocket of the checked luggage. I almost threw my toiletries in the carry-on before realizing that there was a razor and a nail clipper in there. Deadly weapons. I almost stopped taking my handy knife but you can check it, no problem.

Things went fine today but seemed, at all times, on the edge of disaster. Little things...like the yogurt in the 'sack breakfast' spit pink yogurt at altitude after the pressure change. I didn't get to wear pink yogurt but there was a squiggle on the tray. I tried to hold my newspaper between me and my seat neighbor when he opened his. His spit little pink globs, too. Little operational things with the airlines also gave pause...like no ground crew meeting our plane in Dallas (we sat for ten minutes or more fifty feet shy of the gate) and a jet bridge problem in SF. In spite of all that, we were on time and no worse for the wear if you don't count lack of sleep, the time difference and that vaguely foggy feeling backed by a bad-tasting, dry mouth that decongestants cause. Ears felt fine. I think I found the right dose and drug for my ears this time.

After a rather expensive cab ride we were ensconced in the Four Seasons, clothes unpacked, amenities checked out and connected to the Internet.

We didn't do much with the morning or afternoon. Just cruised along getting our acts together. FFP needed coffee and food. (He didn't open his pink yogurt and was subsisting on the bar and raisins from the delightful deli meal. Nor did he have coffee on the plane. I did even though having hot coffee on a plane always seems headed to disaster.) A place near the hotel called Cafe Venue served us some fine hand-tossed salads and really strong good coffee.

I had forgotten my belt. Usually FFP forgets something (like a cap or after shave or collar stays or a shoe horn) but I have been adding his 'easily forgotten things he always has to shop for' to his packing list. It isn't fun unless you have to buy something at the other end. We pop into a Ross Dress for Less and get a $14.99 belt. There are some people in there shopping and speaking German. There is a long line.

Then we go to Nordstrom's and look around. I'm sleepy. We go back and I concentrate on napping while FFP goes to the drug store for some Cetrucil tabs (see...he did forget something) and then goes to the health club for a massage.

The sleep feels like it's coming from a basic, primal need and I bury myself in it, knowing I'll wake refreshed (well, after a $4 Diet Coke from the mini bar and a shower). The Four Seasons bed and bedding is excellent. Later our friend on staff here will tell us that the biggest selling item in the gift shop is beds. People order them for home.

The flying is, for now, forgotten. What's left is the magic of having oneself and one's luggage transported to another place.

FFP has picked up a give-away paper at the cafe and finds that Freddie Hubbard is playing the Plush Room. He calls and finds there are seats left.

So we have an early (SF time) dinner in the FS bar, listening to the piano player and we amble up a few hills, stopping at a fabulous gallery and arriving early enough at the York Hotel (home of the Plush Room) to be there when the doors open and take a table up front. We talk to the people behind us before and between sets. They know someone in Austin. And we know them, too, and just went to a party at their house.

Thursday, July 10, 2003

A Journal from Austin, Texas. A Project of LBFFP Stealth Publishing.
food	reading	writing	time	exercise	health and mood

View from our hotel window	flying away How could I forget how I hate flying and how much at the edge of disaster things seem in the airline system? It just occurred to me yesterday...I hate to fly and I have to fly tomorrow. I was buying some decongestants which I have to take to adjust my ears when I thought about it. This morning around 4AM as we went to the airport, I realized that just going to the airport makes you feel like a criminal anymore. I can't lock my checked luggage anymore. Nope a cable tie instead. That anyone in the system could cut off in a second to steal my stuff. Because the world is afraid of you and me and so we aren't allowed to protect ourselves. Or to have a laptop that isn't rattled bare over a conveyor belt. Or so it seems. I take my Swiss Army Knife (to cut the cable tie and for other uses) in an outside pocket of the checked luggage. I almost threw my toiletries in the carry-on before realizing that there was a razor and a nail clipper in there. Deadly weapons. I almost stopped taking my handy knife but you can check it, no problem. Things went fine today but seemed, at all times, on the edge of disaster. Little things...like the yogurt in the 'sack breakfast' spit pink yogurt at altitude after the pressure change. I didn't get to wear pink yogurt but there was a squiggle on the tray. I tried to hold my newspaper between me and my seat neighbor when he opened his. His spit little pink globs, too. Little operational things with the airlines also gave pause...like no ground crew meeting our plane in Dallas (we sat for ten minutes or more fifty feet shy of the gate) and a jet bridge problem in SF. In spite of all that, we were on time and no worse for the wear if you don't count lack of sleep, the time difference and that vaguely foggy feeling backed by a bad-tasting, dry mouth that decongestants cause. Ears felt fine. I think I found the right dose and drug for my ears this time. After a rather expensive cab ride we were ensconced in the Four Seasons, clothes unpacked, amenities checked out and connected to the Internet. We didn't do much with the morning or afternoon. Just cruised along getting our acts together. FFP needed coffee and food. (He didn't open his pink yogurt and was subsisting on the bar and raisins from the delightful deli meal. Nor did he have coffee on the plane. I did even though having hot coffee on a plane always seems headed to disaster.) A place near the hotel called Cafe Venue served us some fine hand-tossed salads and really strong good coffee. I had forgotten my belt. Usually FFP forgets something (like a cap or after shave or collar stays or a shoe horn) but I have been adding his 'easily forgotten things he always has to shop for' to his packing list. It isn't fun unless you have to buy something at the other end. We pop into a Ross Dress for Less and get a $14.99 belt. There are some people in there shopping and speaking German. There is a long line. Then we go to Nordstrom's and look around. I'm sleepy. We go back and I concentrate on napping while FFP goes to the drug store for some Cetrucil tabs (see...he did forget something) and then goes to the health club for a massage. The sleep feels like it's coming from a basic, primal need and I bury myself in it, knowing I'll wake refreshed (well, after a $4 Diet Coke from the mini bar and a shower). The Four Seasons bed and bedding is excellent. Later our friend on staff here will tell us that the biggest selling item in the gift shop is beds. People order them for home. The flying is, for now, forgotten. What's left is the magic of having oneself and one's luggage transported to another place. FFP has picked up a give-away paper at the cafe and finds that Freddie Hubbard is playing the Plush Room. He calls and finds there are seats left. So we have an early (SF time) dinner in the FS bar, listening to the piano player and we amble up a few hills, stopping at a fabulous gallery and arriving early enough at the York Hotel (home of the Plush Room) to be there when the doors open and take a table up front. We talk to the people behind us before and between sets. They know someone in Austin. And we know them, too, and just went to a party at their house.
JUST TYPING Flying away. With hundreds and thousands of others. Miraculously arriving at a pinpoint on the globe. With your luggage.
		Food Diary. Breakfast bar (110 calories). Yogurt (110 calories). Raspberry if you want to know. Pack of raisins (90 calories). Small tossed Mediterranean salad with feta, pasta and such. An appetizer of various kinds of tuna...sashimi, sushi and cubed and marinated. A small portion of California artisanal goat's milk cheese with artisanal break with walnuts. Two glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon. An Anchor Steam (draft) and a little bit of a second one. A sip or two of a Manhattan. A nightcap of a small serving of dessert wine.
		Time flies.... From the time we got up until we arrived on the tarmac in SF, it was eight hours. That's where the time goes. Into a travel void. You always forget that to take time off and relax that you have to pack, travel, unpack, pack, travel. Takes time. That's why you need to be retired. So you have time to travel and time before and after to do what's necessary.

		Reading. The Pleasure of Finding Things Out, The Best Short Works of Richard P. Feynman was a good book for the surreal atmosphere of the plane. Although I also read where the inflight magazine which had interviewed the Charlie's Angels actresses about where to go in LA. Just in case, you know. Just in case I (a) go to LA; and (b) want to go to places recommend by the likes of Drew Barrymore.
		I'm on the road and I wrote the journal...what do you want from me?
		Exercise None, nada, sloth.
	.	My mood is still good. Fear of flying notwithstanding. [It's not really fear, actually, as in I think the plane will crash or something. I just hate the whole time-consuming crush of humanity into small seats and overhead bins. The waiting for boarding, taxi and take-off. The waiting for bags. The long walks through boring airports.]