West Coast Wonderings

Late Friday we slumped back into the duplex after eight days out West. The time spent in California was appreciable and satisfying, though sandwiched by two travel days of misery. Still, regret has no place in my life and so my summary hopefully will not suggest that the treacherous voyage dominated our overall memories of the trip. All I will say about that is that no matter how many passengers compliment your handling of the situation, multiple hours spent in an ass-cramping seat holding 18 squirmy and fussy pounds does not a fun day make. Add to that a shift of three time zones, and you're left questioning your sanity over your decision to undertake the voyage. And, once you’ve finally arrived, for the duration of the vacation you are bedeviled by angst over the trip home.

That first night we slummed it at the airport Clarion. Yet, 15 minutes apiece were spent on the drive there (thanks for the ride, Jeff!) and the haul of luggage from the car to room 404, and another quarter hour on successive trips back to the car for the balance of our baggage. Traveling with kids, I had learned that morning, causes anxiety not only over the kids’ tolerance of the flight, but equally over the capacity of two adults to transport the immense agglomeration of stuff needed to sustain the kids. All available luggage space was reserved for diapers, wet wipes, mush food, toys, books, and a dizzying array of one-piece crotch-snap suits, shorts, pants, jackets, hats, and so on; the kids will travel in style, or won’t travel at all.

Friday morning we rented a minivan ahead of Saturday's drive to Los Angeles with Jeff and Liz. This day was mostly spent stocking up on the NL essentials that made little sense to air freight from Florida. We later checked into our second hotel, in downtown's Embarcadero. Our room offered scant opportunities for hide-and-seek, but plenty for solemn contemplation. It was geared for the "business traveler"; I'd say more for the former than the latter. We rendezvoused with Liz at the close of her work day, which roughly coincided with the close of our waking day: all four Wieleckis still observed the Eastern time clock and TGIF was far from our minds. The kids went to sleep around 8PM. I then hit the streets for take-out pizza which we devoured over whispers on the hallway floor just outside our hotel room door.

The next day we stuffed the Sienna halfway up to its side airbags and pointed it south. Six plus hours hence, we rolled up to a line of eager valets at the Sofitel in Beverly Hills. Our eighth floor room boasted floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a mall as well as a $6.75 hit for merely glancing at the Heinekens in the mini fridge. We briefly met up with my longtime compadre Andy, a product of Chicago's Columbia College now serving under uncle Walt D.

The next day the kids awoke before 5AM and were rewarded with a two-hour stroll across at least three zip codes. Later, with the sun at full blaze on a day that would set an LA heat record, we trooped another two hours to the Hollywood Walk of Fame and slouched onto a bus back to base camp. Finally, we visited the hotel's pool where NL splished less than they splashed but at least emerged cleaner.

The last four nights of our holiday found us back in San Francisco at a fourth hotel: the Huntington, in Nob Hill. (Fancy, fancy, I know, but the luxury can be all yours with just a daring click on Hotwire.) Day 1 Liz and Jeff accompanied us on a trek up an ocean view trail at Muir Woods National Park. The twins saw the redwoods and sequoias from the inside of their Bjorns while we burned through several hundred calories. I stole a 1-inch pine cone as a souvenir, perhaps containing some malicious parasite set to devour defenseless acres of Florida's saw palmetto. Oh, well, live and learn.

Wednesday we trooped north on Taylor and west on Union, straight through the gut of the Cow Hollow neighborhood, and then south on Pierce Street to Pacific Height's Alta Plaza Park (I make this all sound like I'm so familiar with San Francisco; nah--it's all about mental notes and a re-check on Google Maps.) Following NL's nap and feed, we walked in the opposite direction and caught a free half-inning of Giants-Padres from a walk-up area in the outfield. NL capiche'd as much of the 10th inning game-winning Giants double as would've my parents, but will have a photo to admire later.

Thursday was our last full day of careless abandon. Bummer for me, though, as some vile stomach funk tormented me from dawn till dusk. Still we managed to log a few miles, traversing some major league hills to Fisherman's Wharf. We ducked into a mostly undiscovered pub where the kids nursed while I did the same, out of a tap.

By Friday, the kids have had it; they cried out for their comfy spacious cribs and well-known and well-worn toys, and their nostalgia for the Eastern time zone was more than evident. We had astutely upgraded to business class for the return trip, owing to cold chills recalling the flight here and nothing better to direct $200 towards. The bonus knee room and endless drinks were a plus, though I can't say a full-speed bicycling collision with a tree would've been less enjoyable.


Graphic evidence of the above may be found at:
http://picasaweb.google.com/gros.islet/SFAndLAApr09#