Well that was fun. I left Venice early Tuesday morning and got home something like 16 hours later, 16 very tiring hours. Turns out even having a chair that makes into a bed, while making the whole ordeal easier, does not totally do away with the hassles of flying. I've been home two days and I'm still trying to get my frail carcass back to normal. Or as normal as it ever gets. I'm just glad to be back to my own bed, my own pillow, and my own toilet and I understand that is the definitive old man statement. Don't care, won't care.
Let me once again emphasize how much I appreciate what a good sport Diane was about traveling with me. There we were, in two of the great cultural centers and my plan was to take naps and have coffee and pastries, which is exactly what I do here. The St. Regis cafe, a block from our hotel in Paris, gets 5 enthusiastic stars, would go again, in a heartbeat. Also the place in Venice that sells pistachio cream filled croissants was really good.
Here's my review of Delta airlines, with which I flew home: the planes suck (The seat to bed thingy worked okay, but was so narrow I couldn't fit my elbows down by my side when lying down, and I am not a particularly wide individual.) but the personnel were great. I originally had a 6-hour layover in Atlanta and needed to get a boarding pass for my leg back to San Francisco. The desk I had to deal with had three ladies filing their nails and refusing to make eye contact and one large homo. Naturally, we bonded, girlfriend got me a first class seat on a flight that was boarding pretty much right then. I was home, and glad of it, before my original flight even took off.
In short I'm delighted I went, I had a wonderful time, and I am never leaving San Francisco again.
Fellow travelers:
