A room with a view (of some fine Frank Lloyd Wright design)
So, I wrap up some last-minute work, hand off some stuff on my to-do list to coworkers and hop on a plane. Ms. Kim was kind enough to drive me to the airport in a fucking typhoon. She's so fucking wonderful.
Anyway, on the way to the airport, my throat kind of starts to hurt. I pass it off as being parched as I worked my way through security. Even though I was totally clean, it still makes me nervous -- muscle memories from being a young punk, I suppose. Plus, fuck the police. Right?
I board the plane and get my ass down to San Francisco. I land, get my bags and take a $50 taxi to the hotel. As I get dropped of, I realize that this hotel is fancy. Really fancy. Fancy as fuck. So fancy, in fact, that I felt like the people behind the counter probably thought I won some sort of contest.
The most glorious hotel bathroom ever / cliche myspace shot
Anyway, by this point, my throat is on fire and I'm hungry. I haven't been to San Francisco since I was about 14 and sadly, I didn't pay much attention to details back then. I find some food and a drugstore. At this point, I'm totally sick. I feel like shit. I drop $30 on all the cold remedies that I conveniently didn't bring with me. I walk, shivering, back to my room. I fall asleep in the most comfortable bed I've ever been in. Glorious.
Thanks for the reminder, dick.
The rest of the week is filled with highlights of good food and training, all while severely doped up cough syrup. I even got to meet up with one of my old CS buddies who works down there now. It was a fucking blur of a trip.
Open-shutter takeoff.
During the flight back, I felt like my head was going to pop. Sinus pressure to the max. I still haven't totally recovered. Weird.
Beyond that, life is good, albeit going by really quick. Work was insane this week and I'm still trying to wrap up all of my christmas shopping / gifting.
Not much more to say. I love you all.
hrmmm
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