Goin' to California With An Achin' In My Heart

I had certainly hoped that my trip to San Diego would begin victoriously. I was disappointed. None of the three images I had submitted for the competition succeeded. That is to say, not so much as an Honorable Mention. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Got the picture? Okay.

As a territory, however, we were riding high with the knowledge that 7 of our images had won an award, with another 5 or 6 winning an Honorable Mention. But not mine. Nope, not mine.

Don't get me wrong, all the winning images were worthy. I was just very VERY disappointed.

Moving on.

So, bright and early I set off for the airport, courtesy of my roommate. There was a rather long but reasonably quick moving line at security. I was questioned about the contents of my carry-on, and when I got to "power strip" they relaxed and said "okay".

The plane arrives on time and we board. Once again, I'm right on top of the engines. This seems to be a thing with me, no matter where I sit, there are the engines. I think they move. I'm sitting at a window seat (having declared a desire to do so, since this was my first trip out to the west coast). It was about three hours into the flight before the landscape started looking....interesting.



This is somewhere over New Mexico. I'm not going to bore you with a lot of hazy photos taken through a glass out of a plane window, but this part of the trip was by far the most intriguing. Notice the lack of trees. I fairly itched to be on the ground and snapping away, but that must wait for the Great Photographer's Pilgrimage.

Shortly after seeing this, I experienced San Diego Trip Letdown #1.

You see, I wanted to see the Rocky Mountains. I mean the BIG Rocky Mountains. The ones with the sharp peaks and the snow. If you look at a map, it shows you that the Rocky Mountains go all the way down the West Coast. But apparently, someone forgot to tell the map makers that this just ain't so. Oh, there are oversized hills that may pass for mountains, but they just weren't what I was hoping for. Oh, well, c'est la vie.

The descent into San Diego afforded plenty of WOW views. And soon we (my two co-workers and I) were making our way to baggage claim. And thus began the:

Saga of the Missing Luggage

I have never had my luggage go missing. And I still haven't. But one of my co-workers did. Actually, two of my co-workers did. We met up with #2 just as we got to the carousel. So, after a few minutes the buzzer sounds, the carousel begins to turn, and the bags come up the conveyer belt. There's Co-worker #1's bag, there's MY bag...and we wait...and wait...and wait. Eventually the crowd clears out, and there are a few bags that keep going round and round and round, but still no sign of Co-worker #2's bag.

Now, here is the part of the post where I reveal a rather painful truth about myself.

I am way too frickin' nice. I should have gathered my stuff, grabbed a cab and made a bee-line to the hotel. Yup, should have. Instead, I spent the next 3-4 hours listening to my co-workers (all of them) bitch and moan while we wait on flight after flight after flight, for the arrival of #2's bag. In short, it didn't come until late that night. Eventually, we all got our stuff and went to the taxi stand. Got a minivan (cheaper than the airport shuttle with a group) and off we went through beautiful, sunny San Diego.

Up next...Goin' to California Part 2