Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Well, at least the direction is forward

Notes on the Run #3 for the 2018 Summer trip ...

Yesterday, one of my Sister's Besties put me in her car, wrangled my luggage, and dropped me off at the BART station which runs directly into the International Terminal at SFO.

I think my big A380 to Paris took off about an hour late. Checking in at SFO is a zoo. There is no line for Sky Priority that I can discern (what is my priority fare for this trip getting me?). There are banks of computer terminals swamped by people printing luggage tags. All stations at the counters say "for baggage drop off with printed tags only."

. . . the hell? What about people who weren't able to get a boarding pass on-line, so must get that from a human as well?

"Wait in line," says the guy, along with the two international plane loads, KLM and Air France-worth of people, all crammed into the rope-lines.



I finally find an entry to this line. It's faster than I expect, advancing at the pace of family groupings, rather than just individual passengers. The KLM folks all depart and their stations open to us.

(Enigmatically I find scribbled at this point: "I cannot destroy dignity that's long gone." Random profound thought, I guess.)

I told Air France, or maybe my daughter told them on a previous trip, that I have problems walking distances or speeds, so now I am on the wheelchair list. It's true that I have devolved to vvery slow. This has been coming on. I'm also prone to tipping over. No. Not tipsy.

There can be glitches when you get parked somewhere in your wheelchair, waiting . . . will I really get picked up? Will squeeze some granola bars into my bag.
Kind of a blank stare
Your experience may vary. Some drivers offer to stop at a restroom. Others wait to be asked. So far, none has asked if I'm hungry. I go from breakfast at home before heading to the airport to dinner on the plane. Next time I ... Whoops. Lost the thought here.

Cabin service on the long flight is less than notable, but I have the same delicious dinner outbound for the two recent flights. (There are choices. I choose it again.)

Daughter missed the connection in Paris to fly with me to Marseille, and I get a message from Air France that my bag, checked through to Marseille, is at Carousel 33 in Paris, a few miles off. I email them. There is a familiarity to this scenario. I report the missing bag. I swear, it must take half an hour per person to report.






Written on June 11 for June 11