We got up early and had breakfast at the rooftop restaurant of the Elios hotel. It was a great spread with pastries, omelets, various hot Vietnamese noodle and other dishes, drinks, and generally more food than any of us needed. I remember a trip down the Colorado River and the surreal feeling of the transition from the beauty of nature to the world of Las Vegas where we made our exit. After the weeks we had spent with little kids who eat rice and water, all this food left me feeling quite indulgent and disconnected.
Run to the room, pack it all up, down to the bus, play dodge ball in traffic with the boxes and motorbikes, and a ride to the airport. There was not as much traffic because Saturday is a lighter work day, but the people do use Saturday to make up for the lunches and siestas they take during the week. Catherine took charge and the hotel workers were hopping.
A city full of motorbikes again, and one we noticed with a make-shift baby seat on the front.
Our flight from HCMC to Taipei, Taiwan, was packed. Asia is the land of Where's Waldo - bright colors, superimposed crowds of people, and a loss of personal space. I love to travel low on the food chain, leaving as small a footprint as I can wherever I go, but it is difficult to do with all the boxes of equipment. Hard to fade into the background.
We had a nice meal service on our way to Taipei and some snacking. I sat next to Dr. Bill and we chit-chatted most of the way. EVA Airlines is so sweet - Bill left a jar of treats at his seat when we deboarded, and they went to the trouble of tracing the seat numbers to the names and then to the next leg of our flight, so the treats boomeranged their way back to him.
Upon exiting the flight into Taipei airport, we were notified that our connection would be four hours late. We got food chits to use for dinner, and wandered the many stores at the airport. There were more typical airport prices for food and gifts, a real sign that we were moving west. Wendell and Frankie made the most of it - foot massages!
Finally we boarded for our last flight with the team and the boxes. Everything made it on, and we slalomed our way to scattered seats on a full 777.
There was only one screaming baby this time, but he had the vocal stamina of an auctioneer and the volume of a rock star. He was in Catherine's row of three, and although she kept her ear plugs in, she began to look a bit glassy and water-boarded by the end of the 11 hour flight.
Frankie was right in front of me and occasionally commented between the seats to me, but otherwise we didn't get to visit much. I had two small Asian women flanking me, so I had room to stretch out a bit on my seat. One of them had garlic breath that left me feeling like I was trapped in a jar of kimchi, but luckily it faded over time. EVA has these nice flexible head rests make it easier to sleep by wrapping around the temples like a shock therapy machine. Please don't ask me how I know that... ;o)
I did quite a bit of Oscar-nominee catch-up on the flight and watched My Week with Marilyn, Descendents, and J. Edgar. Great line-up, and really helped pass the time.
About mid-way over the Pacific, the cabin crew called for a doctor. I used to be a flight attendant, so I know this can be grim and sometimes even call for a diversion of a flight. I arrived at one of the jump seats by a galley kitchen to see a mid-aged mad sitting on the seat looking quite ashen and panicky. I began to interview him, held his pulse, and tried to get a sense of what was going on.
I was again impressed by EVA - they had a large aluminum box they had pulled out with automatic blood pressure cuff, ambu bag, emergency drugs, stethoscope, and many other things available for in-air emergency care. I guess one flight diversion would be much more expensive than a very well-appointed medical kit, so they invested in one. The flight attendant already had a blood pressure and gave me report; very good first-responder behavior.
I began asking the man questions, feeling his pulse, and trying to get a feel for the situation. Another doctor showed up and must have assumed I was either not a doctor or not capable (a reaction female doctors get used to) and he took over the questioning. I could have made myself assertive and puffed up my chest, but it is just not worth it, so I stood by and listened to his questions.
When I was satisfied that it was not a serious problem and we came up with a plan, I began to return to my seat. At this point the other doctor said, "I want to be upgraded to first class." The purser looked quite confused, and I said, "He is making a joke - hahaha!" She smiled and looked relieved, but he than said, "I'm not kidding." At that point I turned and left; welcome back to the west.
Later she came by my seat with some paperwork, thanked me again, and offered to upgrade me to first class. I explained to her that I used to be a flight attendant, and was more than happy to help the crew. She put her hands up and gave me a big smile, and turned on her heels. She came by later with a bag of goodies for me, told me the flight attendants were proud of me, and that we were all "sisters". Much better than moving to first class!
I must have fallen asleep, because I was suddenly aware of taxiing along the runway. We had arrived at SFO!
We made our way out, cleared the entry point, got all the bags, and admired the adorable working beagles. We carted our load out to the front, found Dora and Jim, and handed off the equipment. Mission accomplished!
Ken came to get Wendell, Catherine made her way to San Jose, Bill left with his wife for Napa, and Alice headed off to East Bay. Frankie and I got on the Air Train to the domestic terminal, and the first stop was where I got off. We hugged and waved, and off she went to connect to Seattle. I stood on the landing for a bit just to absorb the finality - where had the time gone?
What followed for me was a two hour layover, great people watching that only SFO can offer, and an update of my email while waiting. Finally I made my last leg to Arcata, made an early arrival, got my bags and wandered outside. Fairly quickly everyone cleared and I was standing by myself under the lone street lamp outside the small terminal. There was a low-lying, misty fog, the very distant rumble from highway 101, jet echoes still humming in my ears, and the musical chirping of the early spring frogs. The air was cool, it smelled of mulch and redwoods, and of course the ever-present sense of the Pacific just beyond it all. Home.
