Note to my reader(s) - my ill friend mentioned in the previous post is still fighting, and showing signs of progress. Thank you for any prayers you may have offered.
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I have always had a soft spot in my heart for Northern California. Not the least of which was for the fact that I conceived my daughter 2 hours south of San Francisco 16 years ago.
This was the third time I had visited the area. The first time was with my ex, when we conceived my daughter; the second time was but a day’s drive through with my parents, my 4 sisters and my 9 year old living souvenir, Taylor. This third time, I came for a work / industry conference. (Note: Taylor's 15th birthday was during my sojourn to San Francisco - please submit this to the Bad Mommy of the Year Awards)
I buckled myself in for the long (thankfully direct) ride from Miami to San Francisco last Saturday morning. I was just about to (prematurely) take a celebratory photo of the empty seat next me when a middle aged, slight in build, ethnic (either Hispanic or Asian) man sat down in what was to have been my leg rest. I nodded politely and made the universal sign for “not interested in chit-chat” by taking out my iPhone earbuds and plugging them into my ears. Mind you, this is my MO during any air travel. Though I cannot sleep (and perhaps because of this fact) I tend to keep to myself and read or stare out the window for the duration. The only seat mate who can pry me out of this habit would be my daughter. (Or perhaps a celebrity. But the likelihood of encountering a celebrity in coach is pretty minimal.)
I needn’t have worried about the slightly built ethnic man as he removed a (pink and black) sleeping mask from his carry on and positioned it over his eyes just after take off.
Heartened by his demonstration of non-interest, I sat up a little and glanced towards the aisle, somewhat willing the drink cart and the Diet Coke to come my way. It was then that I noticed my seat-mate’s peculiarity. His silky gossamer (now I notice it is hot pink edged with black lace) sleep mask took on a bit of an S & M feel as he had snaked both of his arms under his own seatbelt and had clasped his hands in supplication, cupping his crotch - the total image of which would have been appropriate in a Mistress’ dungeon.
Needless to say, I chose to avert my eyes as much as possible from my seat-mate for the duration of the flight to California and switched from Diet Coke to a mini bottle of cheap but still useful Cabernet Sauvignon.
Once landed in San Francisco, I had a couple of hours to kill and took a cab after checking into my hotel in Union Square to Pier 39 and Fisherman’s Wharf. Having been to these touristy destinations on two previous trips, I felt free to just wander, people watch and have an over-priced lunch at the only restaurant that did not have a wait on Pier 39. I did have a moment of panic when my credit card was initially declined when paying for my lunch. It turned out that my hotel (in the first of what was to be several transgressions by this particular hotel) had charged my credit card for 4 times the amount of my stay, amounting to over $5,000. I am a person of modest means and usually charge very little...so my credit card company had wisely seen to it that a hold was put on my account.
The hotel staff member I spoke to was apologetic, the charge was removed and I went to bed early, my circadian rhythms still very much on an East Coast vibe.
I was up bright and early the next morning to join a colleague and some friends / contacts of hers on a tour of wine country...in a limo. Yes, ‘lil ole me, on a LIMO tour of Napa Valley. It was decadent and perfect and I have decided is the ONLY way to tour Napa Valley. I thanked my colleague for inviting me and our hosts for having me repeatedly and stopped just short of genuflecting.
This was only my second time to Napa Valley. The first time was during that first trip to North Cali with the first husband. Back then, we actually had to drive a rental car with map in hand (before the days of GPS) and one of our stops was at the Sutter Home Winery and we thought that it was the ultimate in wine. (Give me a break, I was 25 years old.) And as a matter of fact, Taylor was conceived during an evening a few nights later when we split a bottle of Sutter Home White Zinfandel. (AKA the go-to girlie drink of the early 90’s)
This time, our group was under the advisement of the limo driver, who is a Napa Valley native and who took us to several vineyards and wineries that fly under the radar for most tourists. We made 4 stops - Jessup Cellars, Silver Oak Cellars, Regusci Winery and Chimney Rock Winery.
My favorite of the stops by far was Jessup. Our group of 5 was treated to a private tasting complete with different cheeses, crackers and chocolates to help enhance the flavors of the wines. Our host, a sommelier-in-training, was wonderful and his uniqueness also enhanced the experience.
He was a tall and robust man, with friendly crinkling blue eyes and a blonde goatee that might remind one of a Scandinavian version of Grizzly Adams. This likeness proved to be prophetic as he later told us a story that had our group talking about him for the rest of the trip.
After someone in our group had brought up Oprah (the why, I believe had something to do with Real Estate), our Jessup host casually mentioned that he had met her, and that she was not the friendliest person, but perhaps it had been a bad day for her. When pressed as to how he had met Oprah, he told us the story of having been mauled by a bear as a child; specifically he was picked out by a man-eating bear in a camp full of boy scouts. The story was terrifying and defied belief, though it’s truth was carved in scars upon his head and on his hands, clearly made by the bear's teeth. He was non-plussed by his own story and seemed to take some pleasure in it - not just by shocking us tourists, but by reminding himself by the re-telling of how wonderful his life is now. He is very close to receiving his certification as a sommelier, he truly relishes what he does and he is engaged to be married. (And oh yes, to close the loop, he had been on an episode of Oprah about people who had survived animal attacks - that is how he had met her)
Meeting our Jessup host, the sommelier-in-training, was one of the highlights of my trip and solidifies what I love about travel - meeting the people.
My Conference began in earnest the next morning. I spent the next couple of days listening to amazing people both in my industry and adjacent to it. As my own company has recently dipped it’s toe into Social Media, I found a couple of sessions extremely relevant. One was with a couple of attorneys who had a give and take presentation about the FTC’s recent rulings and one was with someone who was from “behind the curtain,” an employee from Facebook.
I do believe that a lot of us listening to the Facebook employee were so taken by her insights and message that we would have held her down after the session ended to tell us more. And she was so energetic and excited about the subject matter, she would have stayed.
All in all, I did drink “the kool-aid” of the conference. This particular non-profit organization really does a phenomenal job of making newcomers (like myself) feel welcome, encourages sharing of information to promote best practices and knocks down walls of preconceived competitiveness.
The end of my stay was marked by two more diametrically opposed experiences.
I had a closing session early on Wednesday. My flight was slated for 8:45 PM, a red-eye from San Fran back to Miami.
I checked out before my early session, and asked to have my bags held until later in the afternoon. I then went to the concierge desk and asked to have the ‘Super Shuttle’ scheduled to take me to the airport by 7:00 PM.
My last session wrapped up around 1:45. I then went to the Bank of America ATM I had espied earlier, withdrew some cash for the trip home and sat in the posh hotel lobby.
I was uncomfortable. I didn’t really belong in this lobby anymore. Though I am a corporate professional, I felt like an interloper or a squatter of some sort. Thus, after seeing the Super Shuttle on the curb, sitting idle with no passenger, I decided to see if I could move my take off time up by a couple of hours and at least feel like a squatter in an International Airport, where everyone is - it kind of levels the playing field.
The woman at my hotel concierge desk couldn’t have been less helpful. Though I let her know that the shuttle was sitting outside without passengers, she said I could not possibly take that one. While at the desk, a young woman whom I vaguely recognized from the conference and inquired about the same thing. Could she hop on the Super Shuttle that was currently parked on the street? How much was a cab to the airport (three times as much.) The young woman walked away.
I dejectedly walked away from the concierge desk and was about to settle into one of the lobby chairs when the young woman came charging back through the doors and said quickly and quietly but excitedly, “You want a ride to the airport? Come on! He has room!”
So, I found myself on an earlier Super Shuttle, chugging away from San Francisco, having a wonderful conversation with that young professional woman, who like myself had chosen to have one child, a daughter, and had made the sacrifices that always accompany reproductive decisions. It was a delightful conversation, and at the airport I gave her my card and wished her well and told her I hoped she was in time to tuck her toddler into bed.
My trip to San Francisco was a conundrum...it mixed past and present...pleasure and business and passed all too quickly. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to go. I recognize, that in this economy, a trip to solely enrich a career path is a rare thing.
And again, be it the conference, the tours, the city...I was truly enriched...by the people along the way.
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