The last two weeks...verging on insane. It started on the 25th of June, where, having geared up with Sis to head to Lollipop for Pride festivities, we're told that the morning after, we'll need to fly to Iowa for our Grandma's funeral. Of course, we've already bought our tickets, so we need to go, which I know is about to set up a Friday night and Saturday morning combo that won't be easy to swallow. Friday night I head up to the city around 9, pick up Za, Nah, JJ and a few others and we head over to Lollipop.
I'm not sure why they changed the venue from Kelly's Mission Rock (which is friggin' awesome) to some club in the SOMA, but the change was unappreciated as it offered less in the way of space and smoking areas, and way too much in the way of not enough bars for all the drinkers. The line was long, and my sister of course shows up as we're going in, so rather than go back outside or make her wait in line alone, I simply grab her and move her around the rope and past the bouncer. She's got CK and Hessica in tow. Luckily, no one sees this so it works. The smoke section in there is horrendous...literally an enclosed room, which means I leave most of my js in my back pocket til afterwards, but the vibe is still great, our group found a great open spot to dance upstairs.
After the party ends, it wouldn't be a Friday night in the city without crepes, so we head over there, after which I drive everyone home to various parts of the city.
Here's where it gets fun.
I don't get home until around 3:30-45, and I have to be at the airport at 6 for a 7:15 flight to Denver so Sis and I can meet up with the Gibs family and take a flight to Des Moines. Logically, it makes no sense to sleep, so I stay up, finish packing and get dropped at the airport on time, if not a bit groggy. As our flight is full and we're flying standby, the next hour ticks by and reminds me that I've been up for 24. And another flight leaves full. And another. And another. Sis and I spend the afternoon trudging back and forth from terminal to terminal trying to get a flight to Chicago or Denver or anywhere that might get us closer to a flight that goes to Des Moines.
This leads to multiple airport meals. For dinner, we go to Gordon Biersch where Sis's beer comes with a fly in it, her water glass with lipstick smudges on it, and a "bowl" of clam chowder served in a 10 oz. paper cup. I promptly write an email to the company, and am proud to say that they're going to be sending us out some free beer coupons to enjoy at one of their restaurants in apology. While what happened to us in that restaurant was not fun, the company has gone out of its way to make up for it, so I'm not going to blackball them just yet.
Finally, we get on a plane. It's an 8pm plane, only 13 hours after our scheduled flight, and it's not quite to Denver...it's to Las Vegas. But we're reassured that there's an 11pm flight from Vegas to Denver that looks very good, so we'll aim for that. We get into Vegas, eat at Quiznos and then head for the gate. Only, we don't make this flight either. Which doesn't just leave us stranded in Vegas, it leaves us stranded in the Vegas airport where every chair has an arm rest between it, so you can't lay down on any of them. And the neon lights are on all night. And the music from the speakers is awful adult contemporary into the wee hours of the morning. And the constant sounds coming from the omnipresent banks of slot machines replay through your head at 4am.
I'm exhausted, so I resort to laying down on my back with my coat as a blanket and my garment bag as a pillow. I'm not sure if the "Wheel of fortune!" shout is in my dream, or coming from the slot machines that aren't letting me get fully to sleep. I open my eyes at one point to see a custodian sweeping garbage away from me in a two foot radius.
And, as our luck would have it, we don't make the first flight out that morning either. In fact, the loads for flights look so bad that we're told by a supervisor that our best bet at getting out of the Vegas airport is to fly back to San Francisco, which we do, arriving at 9:30 in the morning. I believe it may stand the test of time as the longest round trip travel plans for nothing, ever.
The grandparents pick us up at the airport and drop us off at home. I lay down for a two hour nap which turns into 4, and when I get up, I'm fresh, ready and shower before heading off to BART to catch it up for my first Sunday Pride ever. The Civic Center is packed on every street, and the people are roaming. I'm not sure what it is, but there's not much I like more than roaming flocks of people on city streets as music pumps and alcohol flows. The whole crew is out there, and I hang around for an hour or two before Za and I decide to hit Bart back to the Peninsula. She passes out on the entire ride back, and when we get back to my place, she passes out. I lock, reload and head to the family BBQ at Casa de F.
The night, weekend and 48 hour period ends Sunday night when we head to Yogurtouille, then back to my place for True Blood. Not a bad way to end it, and certainly more in 48 hours than most people might like to manage. Up next...tales from the 4th of July.
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