How was your day?

I woke up at 4:30am to drive to SFO for an 8am flight. There’s an airport in Sacramento but I wanted to fly a direct flight to where I was going.

I hit some rain driving through Fairfield – that annoying misty rain.

When I reached the Bay Bridge Toll Plaza at 6:10, I found traffic backed up before the toll because of the metering lights. The annoying misty rain reappeared. Some guy in the Fastpass lane blocked traffic trying to push back into the Cash lane. Yeah, that guy…

Airport parking is $36/day at SFO, unless you want to park and take a shuttle. What a rip off. After I parked and was about to walk into the terminal, I saw the rear of my car protruded out even though I  pulled forward to nearly touch the bumper of the shiny blue Mustang convertible facing me. Then I saw he was pulled too far forward, probably because he didn’t want to have his tail nicked. I had to repark. Redneck.

I checked in for my flight. No aisle seats. I was stuck against the window for a cross-country flight. I pee a lot and started thinking how to time my bowel movements before boarding to reduce my annoyance of my fellow passengers, and my annoyance of their annoyance. Blah.

After sliding through security, I stopped at the Yoga room to stretch. A woman inhabiting the room already was breathing heavily then start clicking on her cell phone even though the sign clearly states – “No cell phone use.” Bitch.

I bought a salad and a coffee for breakfast. I only finished half of the salad before the flight began boarding, lugging a plastic crate of argula, cheese, and oily dressing with me. Midway during the flight, I finished the salad then dripped the remaining salad dressing on my shirt, tray table, jeans, wall, and floor. Lovely.

The Internet was exceedingly slow on the flight. I finally stopped what I was doing during the last hour to read.  Great.

An hour from our scheduled landing, the pilot announced that the tower placed us in a holding pattern because of weather in DC, but the good news was that we had plenty of fuel to circle for a while. Um, yeah…

The woman in front of me at the Metro station took a really long time to buy a $2.45 ticket. She paid cash and had exact change. This caused me to miss the train heading my way so I had to wait 4 minutes for the next train. The Metro never seems to have seats to accommodate people with baggage. I had to stand for nearly the whole trip.

I misread the directions Google Maps posted on my phone, so I exited on the wrong side of the station. Upon my exit, the machine informed me I needed to add $0.50 to my card. The machine only takes cash. I didn’t have a cent on me.

Emerging from underground, I heard “Umbrellas! $5! $5! Umbrellas $5!” I stepped aside, jammed my sport coat into my suitcase, and paid the $5. I told the woman that she should charge $10. “People willing to pay $5 are willing to pay $10.” I walked two blocks in absolute mugginess. The rain stopped because I bought the umbrella. Water polished the streets and accumulated nicely on the corners, forcing me to walk around and through the puddles at each intersection.

At the hotel, the front desk attendant confirmed my room – “Hello Mr. Sambucci. We have you for three nights in a King Bed Smoking Room.” I immediately fired back with “That can’t be right. I didn’t request a smoking room.” After a firm exchange, I attempted to negotiate something, anything to make up for the terrible inconvenience at paying $419/night for a room with two double beds instead of a king bed.

Once in my room, I paid the $14.95/day Internet fee and called someone using Skype with whom I was supposed to meet for coffee at 6pm, who emailed me to cancel the coffee earlier in the day but was happy to chat on the phone. Voicemail. I used Skype because I had only two bar reception on my cell phone.

(Mind you, none of this money I’m spending is mine, as I’m traveling for work.)

I did a in-room workout before my next scheduled call because the gym ceilings were too low.  Do hotels ever talk to guests that use hotel gyms when they design them?

Then I read an email from my wife. The body read – “Dammit. I hate this.” with a link to a CaringBridge website from a friend of ours. Here’s the opening paragraph of his post:

“We just learned on Friday that my cancer has returned. It’s in my lungs now, and it is terminal. My cancer is aggressive, so I probably have months, not years, to live.”

He has a wife and a three-year son.

How was your day? I gained a little perpective.