I hope my flight isn't any indication of what I can expect from my new life as a Washingtonian.
It started with the cab ride. My taxi driver talked and talked about how it's as good thing he speaks more than one language because he can listen to the different sources of news and know what's really going on with Bush. Awful, awful Bush. I don't usually mind chatty, Bush-bashing drivers, but I was really tired and wasn't in the mood. I was running late for my flight.
And when I turned in my luggage for curbside check-in, I was DENIED because I was over my weight limit. I guess too much stuff in my bags is better than too much junk in my trunk, but it was annoying nonetheless.
I finally got to the gate with only two minutes to spare. It was a full flight, and I found myself seated next to an older Korean couple. The man got up to let me in for my window seat, but the woman tried to remain seated. She pointed at my seat with her hands palm side up, indicating that she wanted me to squeeze past her. I'm sorry to say that I'm more than a mere 4" thick, so that would've required me to CLIMB OVER HER. Sorry, ajuma, but my mama and halmunee (grandma) are the only older Korean women who can ask me to make myself that uncomfortable for them.
After she let me in, I took my window seat and reclined it as soon as I could. The man behind me audibly complained, "Oh, Christ." I must've hit his knees. And then he started PUSHING the back of my chair, as though I would give up the space to which I was entitled. I tried to ignore his nudges and pushes (even though it kept happening through the flight).
So I picked up the in-flight magazine. The cover showcased the feature story, "Three Days in San Francisco."
I immediately began tearing up, and my nostalgia only worsened as I read the actual story. It listed some of my favorite San Francisco spots, and though my tears didn't actually fall, I found myself with a sniffly nose. *Sniff*
And then I looked over at the Korean ajuma next to me to discover that she was wearing a huge straw hat and one of those dont-infect-me-with-your-virus masks. You know, the kind you see people wearing in Asia. She must've thought I had something contagious. I practically burst out laughing!
And THEN that same ajuma got sick. She used her own sick bag, her husband's bag, my bag... I wasn't sure why she didn't excuse herself to the lavatory, but I think it was some powers that be somewhere trying to give me the hardest flight possible. If I want to be with my love, I apparently have to go through as many hurdles as possible.
And then I landed.
I was officially no longer a Californian.
The weekend was relatively uneventful. It felt like any other visit to see Taer. Today was the first "different" day because we both woke up and WENT TO WORK! My first day was good; I'll write about it later. My man is making dinner, and I'm going to go help now. It's good to be home.