San Francisco: Morrison Planetarium at the California Academy of Sciences

We hit the California Academy of Sciences (CAoS) on the afternoon of Wednesday, May 1. After a morning at Alcatraz, I didn't have any business walking around, but I'm too stubborn for my own good. I really hate to let all the medical crap I've been through in the last three years get in the way.

So I explored. Slowly. If there was a bench nearby I explored it as well.

The ground floor is where most of the action is. There are a pair of enormous globes: one for the Rainforests of the World exhibit, the other for the IMAX Morrison Planetarium.

We'd come specifically to see the planetarium, billed as "the world's largest all-digital" in the CAoS brochure.

I didn't wander very far, but we had an hour to kill before the next show. I took in the Puerto Rico reef aquarium and watched the Foucalt Pendulum display:



Explored several benches. They were of good quality and reasonably comfortable, but the main bench exhibit (a small group of them, supposedly shown in their natural environment) was kind of boring.

No benches at the planetarium entrance. We only stood for maybe 15 minutes, but it was starting to seem like forever by the time the doors opened and we were ushered into...the next waiting area (a darkened room, where our eyes could adapt). My legs and back were having fits, but I just kept standing.

Another 10 minutes in this darkened room, then (FINALLY!) we were led into the main theater, a 90-foot dome. Some pretty evil stairs, and damned if my host didn't want to go alllll the freaking way to the top. Man, what a hike. I felt like I'd fall backwards if I didn't hold on to the railing. Practically fell into my seat. Sighed in several kinds of relief.

Several minutes of introduction from the staff. The theater was more brightly lit than that darkened room had been (so much for adapting to the dimmer light...). The lights went down and the show got under way.

I wish I could describe the show. It looked amazing on that 90-foot IMAX dome, as if we were floating above the building's Living Roof. We pulled back, back, back: the campus, San Francisco and its peninsula, the West Coast, the Earth--

I blinked. I'd swear that's all it was, a blink, and overhead we were zooming back toward the Earth. Credits rolled, lights came back up, and my cellphone claimed that 20 or so minutes had passed.

Seriously. I'd managed to sleep through the one thing I'd come here to see.

Pic of the Day: Alligator Gar Overhead!

Shot in the basement of the California Academy of Sciences (CAOS! heheheh). An alligator gar prowls above the ceiling of the "Amazon Flooded Forest" tunnel. Above is the "Rainforests of the World" sphere.

The entire basement level is a series of aquaria, some of which are also visible from the ground floor. Mostly natural daylight coming down through the building's skylights. Makes for some spectacular shooting, especially if you can find a place without a crowd of people in the way.

Pic of the Day: I Left My Mark on San Francisco...

This'll show 'em for not having Fort Point open and ready for inspection.

I wish I could have set up a camera to see the reactions of other visitors. Even better if that was still present after three months.

The most disappointing part of the whole San Fran trip is that I only took 357 pics. Only 21 of them were at Fort Point and only 12 of those even have the fort in them. I got more pictures of Alcatraz (44, but still...only 44?!), a few of that red bridge (can't remember the name, sorry), but neither of my cameras were anything close to full. I completely missed Muir Woods and the twisty, narrow road leading in and out of there, the gorgeous valley on the way in. Kept the "big" camera (12 mp Kodak) in a shopping bag as I shambled up and down Haight Street.

I could just say I was too busy looking, and that'd be part of it. But I've been out of the habit of getting the camera up or even taking it with me.

Picture of the Day: Closed?!

One place I was looking forward to seeing during my three-day tour of San Francisco was, of course, Fort Point. It's the only such fort on the US Pacific coast.

Closed.

It's open for tours Friday through Sunday and I was there on...a Monday.

Reminds me of  that time I went all the way to Fort Pike on a Saturday to find it closed and fenced-in.

Since Fort Point is a National Park site, there's a clearly-marked schedule, something the Louisiana parks people didn't think of ("What? A schedule on a sign? Why'd anyone need that? We know when we're open!"). Oh, and Fort Point is open ON WEEKENDS, which makes sense for attracting tourists, something else the Louisiana people didn't consider ("What? Make the fort open on weekends? But that's mah fishin' time!").

Grrrr.

At least this one's only half-fenced off (basically the northern and western fronts), probably as protection for the Golden Gate bridge, which runs directly overhead. The bridge's chief engineer Joseph Strauss saw something worth preserving in the fort, so he designed an arch to carry the bridge over (link goes to a tour site; very good picture of the arch).

Picture of the Day: Please Don't Feed the Scientists

I don't like zoos, though I can understand the need for keeping an injured animal in a safe place if it can't be returned to the wild.

I wonder what happened to these scientists. I hope the California Academy of Sciences has them properly tagged, in case they get out of their cage. We all know how dangerous wild, roaming scientists can be.

Pretty neat how their natural environment has been carefully replicated. Judging by their coats, they're in good health, but I'm curious about there only being one male and how the gender groups have staked out territory on opposite ends of the enclosure. That could easily be part of their daytime sciencing behavior, foraging for research funding and making fun of wandering tribes of creationists.

The installation seems somewhat sterile. I didn't see any openings to sleeping pens. Poor creatures.

Pic of the Day: Missed it by This Much

Shot May 1, 2013: That building in the middle is Loved To Death, the shop seen on "Oddities San Francisco." I'm glad I got this shot (I was admiring those bay windows, which are different from those of the surrounding buildings), since this is the closest I got to the store.

We walked the other way on Haight Street. East instead of west. I did see the intersection of Haight and Ashbury, saw some of the neighborhood's infamous panhandlers and touristy shops, lots of psychedelic colors. I got about half a block past Ashbury, took a long rest in the Panini Cafe (right across from a pair of giant bestockinged legs hanging  in the Piedmont Boutique's upstairs window), and made my way back toward the car. Round trip was barely half a mile, and I had to stop for rest every hundred feet or so.

As my friend shopped in a nearby record store, I sat on the curb where we'd parked and watched people, looked at places, and rested. Very annoying knowing that I was so close to the one shop I'd really have wanted to visit. I did hit the Haigh-Ashbury Music Center; bought some guitar picks that I could have gotten anywhere else--but I can point to the price tag: "But they're from Haight-Ashbury, man!" So that's something.

Oh, and I completely forgot to troll anyone--ANYONE--in the SF area asking them where the Rice-A-Roni Factory Outlet was. Dammit.

Still not quite up to the final Road Trip installment for the San Francisco trip.

[Editing to add: After looking up one store we hit (the one with red door trim to the right), it turns out I was right NEXT DOOR to the place, then walked right past it as we headed down Haight. Crap!]

Road Trip: San Francisco! Part 3a--Restaurants (some followup)

I should have put this as the close of the restaurants post. Oh, well.

In the three days I spent in the SF area, I ranged as far north as Sausalito (on a run up to see Muir Woods) and as far south as San Mateo.

I was struck by how few out-in-the-open fast food joints there were. These were mostly in San Bruno and Millbrae (the In-N-Out Burger we went to was in Millbrae). I saw one stand-alone McDonald's with its familiar architecture. The handful of McDonald's joints farther north were blended into their neighborhoods or in strip malls. No drive-through, nothing more than a recognizable but modest double-arches sign to let you know they were there.

I saw a combined KFC and Taco Bell in an otherwise nondescript building. A combined KFC or Taco Bell and A&W in another spot.

Not a Waffle House sign (or restaurant) anywhere. Those things grow like kudzu near highway offramps in the Southeast.

I liked it. I liked the fact that there was a dress code in the area and that even these corporate giants had to conform.

Billboards. There weren't a lot of them cluttering up the view. Business signs, either.

Walmart? bwahahaha. Nope. The Great Retail Satan can be found across the bay or down near Palo Alto, though there are a couple of corporate offices of some sort near San Bruno.

Nice.

[Edit: Don't know why it didn't occur to me that the "dress code" could also be about using established buildings that are up to local earthquake-preparedness codes. The San Andreas fault cuts right up the center of the SF peninsula--interactive map at the link.]

[Nother Edit: I really should have trolled the locals, asking them where the Rice-A-Roni Factory Outlet store was. Dammit!]

Road Trip: San Francisco! Pt. 3--The Bites!

Yeah, this is me being lame, trying to rhyme with Part 2--The Flights! Maybe I should go back to Part 1--The Airports and rename it "The Plights" or "The Smites."

Nah. Too trite.

There weren't any complimentary peanuts or crackers on any of the flights, just soft drinks. A canned Coke is a canned Coke, even at 33,000 feet. No food here, and that'll save some reviewing time.

4/28/2013 Sunday:
First place I dined was Tommy's Joynt at the corner of Van Ness Avenue and Geary. We had to park up near the end of the block on Geary (nice downhill slope for me to deal with). I didn't even notice the eye-catching livery on the building's north side (late evening and worn out from all the airport stuff). As you enter from the corner (didn't see the door on Geary, either), you've got a long cafeteria-style serving area on the right. The bar dominates the left wall. Plenty of warm, dark wood. Beer signs all over the place. Small without feeling crowded. As a bonus for Monty Python fans, there's a little "Watney's Red Barrel" display hanging just next to the bar.

I wish I'd been able to stay in SF longer so I could explore the Joynt's menu. I had the BBQ brisket dinner platter (mashed potatoes, hard roll and a salad). Good portions for the price (about 10 bucks, plus a Coke). Very tasty! It was served with what looks like a thin brown gravy but has a tangy BBQ sauce flavor. I'd definitely eat here again and again.

4/29/2013 Monday:
We ran some errands early in the day and didn't do breakfast until maybe 10:30 am. Thanks to the Lex and Terry morning radio show, I've been hearing praises of In-N-Out Burger for years. We stopped at the one near Millbrae Avenue and Rollins Rd in Millbrae.

I went with a straight-up #2 combo (double cheeseburger, fries, Coke). I'd put them in the same league with Wendy's, Steak 'N' Shake, or Whataburger as far as flavor and quality--basically mid-range as far as burgers, but high as far as fast food joints go (for comparison, Burger King, McDonald's, and Krystal are on the bottom tier; Tops and SteakOut are on top). Huge portions. Good fries. It wasn't an earth-shaking experience, but I'd go occasionally if there were one in Pensacola.

We spent the rest of the day driving all over SF proper. Had a Slurpee at the only 7-11 I've seen since 1999 (there are none in Northwest Florida; they were taken over by Circle K).

Dinner was from Sorabol, a food court restaurant at the Tanforan mall in San Bruno. Korean. Pretty typical Asian-style menu (rice, vegetables, bite-size cuts of beef, pork or chicken). Lots of food for a decent price. The bourbon chicken was very good.

There was a Jollibee next door to Sorabol. I later learned that it's supposed to be Filipino--but from reviews around the Interwebs, actual Filipinos eat elsewhere. The only reason I even remembered this place was #3 on their menu: a plate of spaghetti with sauce...and a fried chicken drumstick.

We'd intended to see the "Evil Dead" remake in the nearby theater, but neither of us thought we'd make it through without falling asleep. Back to the apartment.

4/30/2013 Tuesday:
My host had to go to work. He spent a good 6 hours on that. I sat around (glad to not be walking or climbing in and out of my host's Miata) and munched on my leftover dinner. Bleah. No microwave or cookware. The rice had hardened and the noodles had taken on a rubbery consistency. Bleah, again.

We lunched at the Broadway Grill a few miles from the apartment at Broadway & Capuchino. What?! Not fast food?! Nope. Not a formal place, but tony enough that prices are noted discreetly on the menu next to the entrees ("21" without the distracting dollar sign; don't be fooled by the Web version). The room is big, two stories high, with an open and roomy feel to it.

I had the Steak Frites (the classy name for "steak and fries"). And a Coke (no classy name). Moderate portions. Good steak. A bit pricey, perhaps, for a low-budget kind of guy (that's a classy way of saying "broke").

More running around, this time in Haight-Ashbury.

Dinner was a medium pizza from Village Host, a couple of blocks east of the Broadway Grill (Broadway & Laguna). Casual sports-bar vibe, but without TV's covering every wall. Wood-warmed and comfortable, maybe louder on a big game night but plenty quiet for conversation. There's an arcade room at the back with a vintage Ms. Pac Man/Galaga sit-down game. The only interesting stand-up had a dozen or so classics such as Joust, Defender, and Vanguard.

Rating the usual pizza joints, I'd put Domino's dead last, then CiCi's, Little Caesar's, Hungry Howie's, Pizza Hut, and Papa John's. Village Host would come in around Howie's or the Hut.


5/1/13 Wednesday:
Alcatraz day! We did breakfast in the little cafe/gift shop near the ferry landing. Some kind of turkey & ham wrap, and too pricey. I ate half of it and stored the rest away for later.

Alcatraz ate the morning; the California Academy of Sciences (CAOS! heh.) ate the afternoon. We infiltrated a Popeye's for a late lunch.

We went back to the Broadway Grill to see their Dean Martin impersonator *ahem* Tribute Artist. Once he wrapped up, we went up the street to Village Host again and demolished a large.

5/2/13 Thursday:
Back to the airport for my long-ass ride back to Pensacola. With the flights (Frisco to Charlotte, then to Pensacola) and the layover in Charlotte I was looking at 10 hours. I had the other half of that wrap from the Alcatraz pier cafe for breakfast. That was it until I hit Charlotte, found out my flight had been canceled, and that I was being put up in a hotel for the night.

The Hilton's Omaha Steakhouse is simply made of awesome. Granted, my rosy outlook thereupon is a likely side effect of low blood sugar. Don't care. I was seated in the lounge. There was just enough light to read, the booth seat was terribly comfortable, and service was fast. I ordered a burger, since a steak would be more work than I wanted. If that wasn't the best damn burger I've ever had, it had to be close. On that short list of burger places, Omaha is at the top, above SteakOut, which is my go-to for damn good burgers.

It tasted like steak.

I don't know what McDonald's does to their patties, but they do not taste like steak. Maybe it's their seasoning (he said, being diplomatic), or the cooking method (he added diplomatically).

Whatever it was, there was just enough burger in all the right places and the price was very reasonable ($13 plus tax) for a steakhouse. No bacon. Why, why, WHY would I pollute a good burger with bacon?

Pic of the Day: Columbus Tower, San Francisco

I snagged a shot of San Francisco's Columbus Tower without realizing that I was a half-block from a "Star Trek IV" filming location, near the intersection of Kearny, Columbus and Pacific.

Dig that JJ Abrams lens flare in the Google Earth shot! That makes it more Trekkie! (Trekish? Treklike? Trekalicious? Trekadelic?)


Right here:



Man, that music sucks.

The building's got an interesting history. It was home to Caesar's, the restaurant credited with creating the Caesar salad. Francis Ford Coppola bought the place in the 1970s and made it home to his American Zoetrope production company.

Road Trip: San Francisco! Pt. 2--The Flights!

If I were designing an airliner, one thing I'd add would be High-Def panoramic cameras that feed to each passenger's seat-back screen, with an assortment of controls to let people look all around the plane, zoom in on points of interest, and label locations so you know where you are and what you're seeing. Pop an SD card in and get stills or video. Like Google Earth, but in realtime.

There would need to be a "virtual" mode for cloud cover.

When we took to the air on June 28th, it was pretty clear; I could see the lower half of Santa Rosa County as we circled eastward from the north runway, then south, then west. Santa Rosa Island, Pensacola Beach, and Fort Pickens scrolled by beneath us.

It didn't take long before Fort Morgan and Mobile Bay were below us--and then a thin haze gradually thickened into a mat of opaque clouds that stayed with us all the way to Houston. I did get glimpses of the Gulf and the Louisiana peninsula. At some point either someone broke wind...or we were over Mississippi (love y'all, mean it! Keep bangin' them rocks together...).

Part of the fun of flying is in getting pics of places you've never been to, then trying to find them in Google Earth:

The FoodMart at Richey and Imperial Valley, just west of the Houston Bush Airport. Took a while to find it in Google Earth (I was looking in all the wrong places).

Once we turned northward from the Gulf toward Houston and started losing altitude, my ears felt like  they'd been hammered into my throat. Now I could only hear the hissing of the air vent over my seat and other high frequencies. My right ear cleared after about 30 minutes on the ground, somewhere in the airport. My left stayed blocked up all the time I was in San Francisco.

Once we left Houston, it was clouds all the way--and my seat was right over the wing. Looking forward, I could see the engine, clouds all the way to the horizon, and the occasional airliner crossing our path below. Looking sideways, there was The Wing. I had a sliver of landscape behind and below, with mountains (snow-capped? Hard to tell) and rugged terrain:

In-flight entertainment was a bunch of ABC programs--something with Matthew Perry (I was thinking this was just United Airlines-produced  happy-happy propaganda until I saw the "ABC" logo), some other show with one of the Wayans brothers, some really bad-looking swords & sorcery thing with Jennifer "Dr. Cameron" Morrison that looked like an all-female Dungeons and Dragons game with nothing but pretty people, and some reality show called "Shark Attack" or somesuch where people act out or demonstrate business proposals for a board of money people, hoping to get financial backing. I glanced at this stuff occasionally to rest my neck from being cranked hard-right so I could watch the mountains and such behind my wing.


By the time we were on final approach to San Fransisco, the sun was glaring me in the face, but I could see the bay, Treasure Island, and the hills to the north:

On this leg, every place past New Orleans was the furthest west I'd ever gone, so now I can say I've been within 37,000 feet of New Mexico and Arizona and actually planted feet in Texas and California.


The trip from San Francisco to Charlotte a few days later was more like riding in a car at night. Lots of nothing to see. There was an occasional sighting of mountains, irrigation circles, a large lake (we were too far south for it to be the Great Salt Lake; might have been Strawberry Reservoir in Utah--something with small islands), and a wide, meandering stretch of river (Mississippi?). Really could have used that Google Earth interface.

Once we crossed over Colorado, it was clouds, clouds, and clouds (aside from that big river) all the way to Charlotte--and even as we were on final to the airport itself. Didn't help that for this flight I had an aisle seat. All I got was glimpses when there weren't clouds; the guy who had the window freaking WASTED it by sleeping.

Sleeping.

I can see where doing enough flying might inure one to the wonders of being in a thin, fragile tube of aluminum and plastic, sailing 37,000 feet above the ground, so high up that one can't see trees, cars, houses, or even cities as anything more than a general "place" (trees make a place green, a road's a gray strip).

But you're freaking FLYING.

Never fails to amaze me, living a few miles from Pensacola's "International" (bwahahahaha!!) Airport and seeing planes big and small floating along on their approach to the north-south runway. Even knowing some of the physics behind it doesn't take away the magic, knowing that the jet thundering overhead is moving close to 200 miles per hour (looks like it's creeping along).

Even more amazing being in one, being pushed back into your seat as the engines spool up to full power and the plane starts rolling like a dragster, waddling as its nosewheel turns just slightly left or right, every crack in the runway kicking you in your seat...then the nose comes up...then the main wheels, and you're suddenly moving in all three dimensions at once.

You're freaking FLYING.

And this guy's taking a nap.

So yeah...clouds. And glare. Man, was it bright outside. But now I could say that I'd been within 37,000 feet of central Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Kentucky, a little sliver of northeast Tennessee, and South Carolina. Missed Oklahoma and Arkansas, but now I've at least been close to most of the southern half of the country. Could have mooned the ones who deserved it, if I'd have been able to twist around to present the salute. Those cabins are tiny even if you're not Mr. Chunky.

What he said. Did I mention that for this one flight (San Fran to Charlotte), I had to ask for an extension seatbelt? Yeah. The existing one was 1/4" shy of touching. Forget about buckling it. My ears repeated their "hammered into my throat" trick. Couldn't hear the screeching toddler creature in the row ahead of mine, so there's that. Then both ears adjusted a little--and ALL I could hear was the screeching toddler. Nice.


The flight from Charlotte to Pensacola was canceled. "Aircraft maintenance." I learned from several other people that their flights had been canceled for "aircraft maintenance," too. We all speculated that it was from the airline being unable to maintain enough dollars bodies in the seats to bother flying the aircraft (I snarked that if it was really a maintenance thing, they could do what all us drivers do: put some black tape over the warning light and keep driving). I didn't complain, though. Unless I wanted to try bouncing from Charlotte to Tallahassee to who-knows-where to Pensacola (more airports? Screw that!), better to look at it as an adventure instead of an asswhipped and thoroughly exhausted traveler who just wants to be done with this crap already. Got to keep my blood pressure down.

Hell, maybe we were sequestered out of our flights. But I can kick a Republican anytime.

The hotel was pretty damn nice. The Hilton Embassy Suites maybe 10 minutes from the airport. At first, when the shuttle dropped me off and I'd checked in, all I wanted was to crawl to my room and collapse on a horizontal surface. I'd have settled for the elevator floor, but those tend to be kind of busy. As I was wobbling toward the elevators, though, I caught sight of The Restaurant. Can't even remember the name, but survival instincts kicked in. I hadn't had solid food for two thousand miles and I was feeling that way. So I made my way to the lounge, collapsed into a very comfortable seat, destroyed a Coke, and then destroyed the best hamburger I've ever had.

That's not exaggeration. This was one of those restaurants that asks how you want your burger cooked instead of making it assembly-line style. This burger tasted like steak.

My room was impressive, for someone being shuffled to a hotel for the night. Bedroom, living room, a little kitchen-like spot in the hall (fridge, microwave, coffee maker), and a generous bathroom with a walk-in shower, a Shower Massage head and plenty of awesome hot water. I have GOT to get one of those.

The only thing to mar my night was some jerk downstairs who kept throwing what sounded like metal and glass into the Dumpster outside the kitchens--and right below my bedroom windows. Sounded like a Pottery Barn being invaded by a cookware store.

The flight to Pensacola was another cloudy "nothing to see here" ride. At least my seat belt fit. :)

I've never been so happy to see ground. I was almost giddy with relief when I walked out of this final airport. Had to sit and rest, of course, but then I laid eyes on a line of cabs waiting for fares, told my goddamn legs to get stuffed, and power-marched the first 20 feet...lost steam and went back to hobbling, wishing I had more than the one speed. Had to rest again once I got to the cabs, but now I was a few car lengths away from not having to walk. Cabbie told me it was $11 minimum. I didn't care. Guided him on the shortest route, gave him $20, got into the house, and utterly failed to fall asleep for several more hours.

That left ear still hasn't cleared.

I'm still amazed at how a simple backpack with 4 T-shirts, underwear, 1 pair of shorts, a washcloth, a polo shirt, a pair of khakis and a hoodie could weigh so damn much.

It was fascinating, mostly fun...but I'm not going near a freakin' airport for the next few years.

Road Trip: San Francisco! (April 28-May 3, 2013)--Pt. 1, The Airports

There I was--surrounded by hoooooomasexshuls!

...and I couldn't spot 'em.

To hear the wingnuts & other haters tell it, San Francisco is World Homo Headquarters, every street corner populated by mincing, very nicely dressed, expensive cheese-eating, twinkletoed incubi indulging in every one of the Kama Sutra positions, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs, but mostly in massive, sweaty, leather-chaps-and-rainbow-flag-draped orgies of sin that would embarrass Satanists and shock the ancient Greeks, who are well-known to have indulged in lustful Baccanalic displays themselves.

The strangest thing I saw was one old man wearing a backpack and using ski poles to cross-country hobble through a crosswalk. Nothing kinky about that: maybe his back hurt. After three days of airports and three of walking and climbing the sights (and sites) of San Fran, I could have used a pair of those poles, myself.

Instead of "Great Babylon is come up before me" (as a scandalized Rachel Jackson said of New Orleans as she and husband Andrew made their way to accept receipt of Florida from Spain in 1821), San Francisco was cleverly disguised as an ordinary town with ordinary people doing ordinary things such as shopping, driving, and working.

Not so much as a Gay Pride Child Recruitment Center!

I left Pensacola Sunday afternoon, had 90 minutes in Houston, and on to SF. I'd be returning Thursday by flying cross-country to Charlotte, NC, 4-hour layover, then 90 minutes to Pensacola.

Maybe it's because Pensacola's airport is so small, but the security line was ridiculous! The line was pretty long and there was just one checkpoint (there's only one terminal). Took close to 45 minutes to get from right next to the check-in counters to the other side of the checkpoint. Man, were my legs tired. Fortunately the terminal is small. Getting to my gate didn't take long even with a couple of rest breaks.

I was hoping that all the standing and walking would help with the leg problems I've been having since Aorta Day. Nope.

Houston airport could have used more benches (something I noticed about every place I went). Most of my 90-minute layover was spent in me hobbling toward the next terminal, finding a train, then hobbling to the departure gate. I saw some passenger carts toting people around, but figured they were pay-to-ride, so I just kept going. I was too tired to smirk at the the place being named after George Bush (the wimpy, ineffectual entitled prat, not the war criminal). Airports should be named for heroes like astronaut Rick Husband, not zeroes. Check out all of Husband's accomplishments. Imagine landing at Houston's Rick the Astronaut Airport. I made it about 10 minutes before boarding started.

I really liked San Fran airport. The terminals are arranged like spokes on a wheel. Get off your plane, head toward the hub and get out. Minimal hiking, no pain-in-the-ass navigation. Still a long walk. Man, were my legs tired.

At the other end of the trip, I got to San Fran airport around 7 Thursday morning. Check-in was fast. The security line only took a few minutes. My legs and back still got sore from the standing, but I was expecting that and flagged down one of those people-carts (finally realized they're free--but considering all the luggage carts for rent, the quick cellphone chargers-for-pay, and stuff like that, my earlier assumption is understandable). I rode like a tired-legged prince to my departure gate and relaxed.

The Charlotte airport was a nightmare of long stretches without benches. Hell of a place. Three and a half hour layover. I started off the right way by going the wrong way in my arrival terminal. When I figured out that the gate numbers were going the wrong way, I sagged, turned around, and moved with what little purpose I could muster. My destination, Terminal E, was at the furthest point possible from me. Man, were my legs...well, you know. Started looking for one of those handicap buggies. Didn't find one for the entire length of Terminal B, or into the mall along the main building. Finally flagged one down only to be dropped off at the top of an escalator. Down that, try to find another cart, end up walking...and damned if I wasn't overtaken by a cart a few minutes later. Finally grabbed another one after more walking and a few rest stops. This one got me to the proper gate, allll the way at the end of Terminal E.

Did I mention that my legs were tired?

Sat there, pondering trudging back up the terminal to one of the restaurants. My phone rang. Flight's canceled, call us to reschedule, thanks for trying to fly us, g'bye. Automated message. I called and learned that I'd be staying in Charlotte for the night ("aircraft maintenance")--in a hotel. Guy told me to find the closest Customer Service desk. Said it was several terminals away. Nice.

Again with the cart-hunting. Not one in sight the entire length of the terminal, until the end, but this one was unattended. I sat, anyway, and waited. Got passed by a couple of active ones. Finally gave up and hiked until I found one, flagged him down. Turns out I passed a Customer Service desk in Terminal E--but my driver took me to the now-closest one and dropped me there. A little shuffling...new ticket for the next morning's flight, voucher for the hotel.

Next morning, check-in went fast, security took maybe 20 minutes (including the line). Now that I was savvy to the handicap carts, getting to the terminal didn't take long.

Pensacola's airport really needs to get their game together and work on decongesting the security line, even if it means putting some more people on the payroll to open up a second line. The single checkpoint worked as well as it could, but took 2-3 times as long as it needed to.