Flying back

By the time I was on the plane, I was ready to come home.  Ten hours back.  Due to the headwind, the flight back is shorter than the one out.  My legs were folded down and I spent hours squirming around trying to sleep, get comfortable or maybe just die. 

Finally, we landed in San Francisco.  I gathered my bags and cleared customs.  The US agent said "Welcome back",  their usual greeting.  A good one.  I still like being an American. 

I made my way to my hotel.  The shuttle dropped me on the side of the construction.  The desk clerk gave me keys to the farthest room.  I made three trips and got my bags to my room.  There was an outdoor jaccuzzi and it was 1 PM.  I slipped into a bathing suit and sat in the warm water looking up at the sun for as long as I could.  I went back to my room and fell into a sound sleep.  At 7:30 PM, I called and asked for a 3 AM wake up call.  At 1AM, I woke up hungry and consumed a can of guava juice from the vending machine.  By 4 AM, I was back on the shuttle headed back to the San Francisco airport.

The trip via Southwest airlines took me to Chicago for a plane change and then to Hartford where Fritz picked me up.  He never said a word about all my luggage. 

I fell asleep in the car and woke up in Vermont.  Jet lag has had me in bed by 8 almost every night.  Now I am packing to go to Houston for the International Quilt Festival.  I will be with my friends and will enjoy it.  But in order to do this, I will have to pack, go to Hartford, fold myself into an airplane seat and wait for take off.  After Houston, I might stay home for awhile.  Or not.

First I will dig my car out of the snow, then add luggage, then drive to Hartford.  This is the first October snow in 40 years of this magnitude in Grafton, Vermont.  Maybe it will melt by tomorrow when I leave.