10 - San Francisco

Layover in San Francisco​

I left Portland in the pouring rain for San Francisco. My plane was delayed a few hours, so my anticipated eight-hour layover was cut short by a few of them. I arrived at four-thirty p.m. and headed straight for BART to take me to the city. Despite a bit of hesitancy given my now more limited timeframe, I decided a blog post about spending six hours buying time at the airport — ate a sandwich, walked around, watched CNN, etc. — wasn’t worth naming a page “San Francisco.” So, to keep up my momentum, I had to create an adventure.
 
I consulted the first person I saw on the BART platform, an airport employee. She didn’t think I should risk going into the city for a (paraphrased) bohemian cup of coffee. Then I ran my idea by three young guys from Wine Country who were headed to Las Vegas. They were in favor of my gamble — shocking, I know! With that kind of support, how could I not take a chance?
 
On BART, I met a lovely Indonesian woman and said to her, “I have four hours to play in the city, should I go to the Mission District or Embarcadero?" to which she replied, “Get out at Powell Street and head to Union Square.” And so, I did.
 
It was Happy/Rush Hour downtown, and the place was crowded. I wasn't sure if I had hit Union Square exactly — it had been years since I’d been in that area — though I landed in a great area for walking with a good mix of shops and colorful creatures. I took some quick pictures which embarrassingly shouted “tourist” to all who watched me, with many of them unintentionally photo-bombing my view of the city. I hadn’t snapped those, and regretfully, the photographer in me believes I missed a great photo opportunity.
 
Headed back to BART by seven-thirty p.m., knowing a train delay due to any ordinary malfunction could make me regret this adventure — or continue to paint a more gripping blog post.
 
It worked out fine. I am now sitting at my gate waiting to board my ride. I spent the last two hours in the airport, walking through the international terminal trying to wear myself out, not unlike what my sister and I would do while traveling with her (then) baby to encourage a good rest (for all of us) on the plane.
 
I am looking forward to relaxing, although I am bummed my economy seat on United won’t allow me internet connection or a private television to watch The Food Network, a wonderful diversion at any altitude. Silly entitlement aside, I’m thrilled for the trip. 
 
Yikes, plane is honking its horn for me -- gotta fly!