24 April 1998

x The Paperwork.

Nice Freeways

Every time I come back I am filled with determination not to leave again this time.

..previously on the Paperwork

Index of days
Dramatis personae
Glossary of terms


Darin and I flew to San Francisco this morning, and I was reminded of two things:

  1. I love the Bay Area. I truly feel affection for this vast area of real estate.
  2. I will never use San Francisco International again, unless I'm changing planes and someone is in charge of getting me from plane to plane.

There is one metric buttload (or perhaps a few metric buttloads--I forget what the exact accepted measurement of a metric buttload is) of work being done at San Francisco International Airport. Which leads to such things as your plane touching down a half-hour late because of traffic backup. And the rental car agencies are about 5 miles away, so it takes forever to get a car. This doesn't make for a happy airport experience.

We got a car and we drove to Magic so Darin could spend a few hours there. I drove up to the City and checked us into our hotel, grabbed our clothes for the rehearsal dinner, and got back in the car to pick Darin up. He drove to the City via 280--Godthat'sabeautifulfreeway--and we were a half-hour late to the actual wedding rehearsal. Given that I'm the maid--err, matron [insert weeping Di vid here]--of honor, that wasn't good. I apologized profusely. My sister said it was okay, but I'm not sure it was.

The whole gang boarded a tour bus to go to Sausalito for the rehearsal dinner at Tops, a restaurant whose main function is to give you a spectacular view of SF Bay. The food was actually pretty decent for a place with a view like that.

I had laryngitis all day, which kind of kept my schmoozing to a minimum at dinner--I had to whisper, and it was hard to make myself heard in a room where there was lots of talking and laughing and glass-clinking going on. I did okay though.

Darin drove us back to the hotel and we collapsed.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

Woke up at 6:15 and said to myself, "Self, you know that you aren't going to do jack once you make it up to San Francisco, so get thy butt outta bed right now and go running." I did: 3.5 miles, pre-airplane-ride. It's like I'm making this a habit or something.

             Paperwork continues...


Copyright ©1998 Diane Patterson