The evening before, I felt so panicked about getting up for that early-morning flight that I'd seriously considered driving to the airport that night (just to relieve my anxiety)...and waiting it out. (It was a logical - and tempting - idea at that time. Really.) But I made it there by 4:30 without a problem (and with little traffic). The TSA checkpoint had just opened, so I didn't anticipate a lengthy wait, and aside from an elderly security agent pulling my empty water bottle aside, opening and slowly scrutinizing it, I sailed through to my gate with 30 minutes to spare. (Admittedly a little closer to boarding time than I liked.)
One thing I'd forgotten but remembered during my subsequent flights to Chicago and San Francisco was how much of the traveling process is inevitably hurry-up-and-wait. If you're like me, you rush to the airport and trample fellow travelers (if necessary) ahead of you in the security line so you can
At least that's how it was for me. But I was determined to enjoy every second of the experience, everything from the boring waiting to the exciting touring. After all, isn't a little short-term discomfort brought on by a new adventure better than a lifetime of stagnant comfort? I think so.
Anyway, the plus side of my delayed flight arrival and lengthy shuttle wait was that my hotel room was ready by the time I finally arrived in the city (courtesy of a gruff shuttle driver) and I was ready for it. I was exhausted...so exhausted (I'd nearly dozed, but always instantly jerked awake several times during the eight-hour flight) that I considered napping instead of exploring the exciting City by the Bay, the Golden City, the place where Tony Bennett famously left his heart, the destination I'd dreamed of for months. But I came to my tired senses and decided a walk up and down its hilly streets was just what I needed.
I set out with the goal of finding the nearby Palace of Fine Arts, only a six-minute walk from my hotel. Since I'm directionally challenged - even with Google Maps - I walked aimlessly down the street and eventually spotted boats and water: I'd somehow found the marina! I walked farther and came upon Crissy Field, a walker's paradise containing Baker Beach and a stunning unimpeded view of the Golden Gate Bridge. The afternoon was warm and the sun was out, as were the walkers, bikers (including several tandem bikers.), unleashed dogs, wind surfers, and kite surfers! (I clearly wasn't in Kansas anymore.) I called my mom, walked, and surfer-watched for a couple hours until the gusty wind chilled my bones through my light sweater (making me regret leaving my jacket in my room) and I decided to head back to my hotel and find something to eat.
While walking back, I saw the large, unmistakable dome of the Palace of Fine Arts, my original destination. After crossing a busy street, I found a small pond hosting ducks and a glorious swan that seemed to soak up all the tourist attention. (I saw it literally follow visitors from one end of the pond to the other.) I walked around to the front of the palace, took in its magnificent pillars and waterfall (a popular photo spot for graduating students) and headed down the street to a burger and wings joint with lousy service but good food and took a grilled-chicken sandwich back to my room where I (finally, gratefully) took a long shower and collapsed in bed at 8 p.m. (PST)
