starlady: (run)
[personal profile] starlady
My dad only today figured out that the bird and I are allied against him.

This post is three months old, but whatever, I wanted to write it. And then in half an hour I am going running and getting off the internet, I am trying to be better about that.

So I flew to San Francisco to visit the other grad school that accepted me the first weekend in April. I took the red eye on Southwest from Philly, which was nice because I completely conked out on the flight to Midway (though I nearly fell asleep in the gate at Philly before we boarded). In Midway I was still practically asleep and managed to give myself a fairly painful first-degree burn buying Starbucks coffee (the only coffee available, I kid you not) at Potbelly. *shakes fist at Potbelly* But I made it to San Fran without real difficulty and got straight on to the BART to the East Bay. After wandering around the campus and meeting with some people I had dinner with [personal profile] troisroyaumes, who is pretty awesome and kindly gave me a lot of useful perspective. Then I got back on the BART and changed to the CalTrain to Stanford, which necessitated 40 chilly minutes at Millbrae. But Stanford has a free campus shuttle, so I was able to meet my friend B without too much trouble, and we had a grand old time drinking beer and eating nachos at the student union before heading back to his dorm room to crash.

Saturday B skived off his boards review session and we took the CalTrain to the BART into San Fran, where in short order we hit up City Lights Bookstore, a gelato place nearby (yum!), Chinatown (yum!) and, with our friend M, Blue Bottle Coffee, which is so freaking amazing, omg. Then we took the tram to Ocean Beach for our other friend M's birthday and barbeque party on the Pacific coast, which we reached in time for the sunset. B and I stayed on the beach until the last bonfire was nearly out, then caught a ride back to Stanford with some random fundamentalist Catholics, who nicely offered us the ride, which for a nonobservant Jew and an atheist Quaker on the night before Easter Sunday was pretty awkward and ironic.

Sunday we got up relatively early and met our other friend M, who is leaving her program at Stanford and taking a job at Tesla Motors setting up its Japan office in Tokyo, for breakfast, and then she kindly drove me to the Caltrain station. When I got to my gate in SFO I was told that I needed--at noon--to take a taxi to Oakland airport to make a 1:05 flight or I would not be returning to the East Coast until Monday at 11pm, which seemed like a ridiculous but fair trade (Eric the SWA employee: "It's Easter Monday!" Me: "I don't give a shit what day it is, you sold me a ticket to get back to Philadelphia today!" I didn't say that literally, but I really probably should have). So I quite literally ran through the airport to the taxi rank; I got in to my taxi at 12:14 and got out at OAK at 12:44, for which I tipped my driver $15, bringing the taxi fare to $90--yup, we did 85 most of the way. I had to cut in to the family & medical liquids line and run to my gate, but I made it. None of this would have been possible if I had not bought and used a Timbuk2 laptop messenger bag as my sole suitcase. And since I had gotten on to my connecting plane, I didn't get off in Phoenix, so my food for the day consisted of breakfast, two Clif bars, and three bags of airline pretzels. Ah, adventures. I did eventually get Southwest to issue me a $70 credit, which I was happy with. Once again, the takeaway is, never book the last flight out on a Sunday.

For the next six years, when I say I'm in the library, that's the library I mean.
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