Travel to and from Sacramento
Jul. 19th, 2007 01:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magidThe original plan was to fly Boston to Chicago, then Chicago to Sacramento, arriving around 10:30 Sunday night. Late for someone on Eastern time, but doable, and there'd be time to sleep before the 9 A.M. meetings in the morning.
What actually happened was rather different.
I checked in, got scanned and whatnot, and went to the gate... to find that the previous hour's flight to Chicago hadn't yet left, and my (5:14) flight was delayed, and it was overbooked also, and did anyone want to give up their seat? That would have meant arriving in Sacramento Monday night rather than Sunday night, so I didn't volunteer. I did have to go up to the desk because seats hadn't been assigned, and they did that piecemeal after they'd gotten enough people off the flight. So I sat. And sat. As did the crowds of people around waiting for the various Chicago flights.
It was never announced, but the reason for the delay that was being talked about was weather. All I could see was that it was overcast, but apparently there were thunderstorms, and there were high winds (apparently gale-force winds in Manchester NH, but they flew anyway. V. strange). People got more frustrated as we continued not to get any information, and the chance of catching connecting flights diminished.
Eventually, we boarded, and I discovered that the window seat I was in was not only near the door (good for dashing to the next exit), but had extra legroom because the row ahead of me was by an exit in such a way that there were only two seats. Excellent. And we were boarding, and it might all actually work.
Except that we then sat on the tarmac. And sat. The door was closed, but we didn't move. And then there were announcements that anyone who'd like to get off the flight should do so now. I was surprised at how many people did this; more than half a dozen queued up, at least. And their luggage wasn't going to be retrieved from the cargo hold, either. After a bit, they leave, and we sit again.
About two hours late, we pull back from the gate, and join the line of planes taking off. That moved slowly (it was a long line), then we were finally airborne, climbing up into the cloudscape and above it into the brilliantly lit space above, chasing the sun across the continent.
I'd forgotten, in my aisle-seat zeal, the glories of having a window to look out of, and not just in glimpses. The clouds are glorious, every time making me think they're more solid than they are. I look out and see a wonderful landscape to climb, hiking the irregular lumpy foothills up to the sunny cloud mountains above.
Anyway. Partway through the flight, I realized that even with gaining an hour, the connecting flight in Chicago just wasn't going to happen (leaving two hours late when there's about an hour in between flights doesn't work, no matter how I sliced it). On the plus side mentally, going for the earlier flight wouldn't've gotten me there in time either, so no need to berate myself.
Compared to my last business trip on JetBlue, United has less legroom, fewer snacks (pretzels only, not an array of choices, plus the water was in open cups rather than reclosable bottles), and fewer entertainments (one channel for the plane rather than choosable by seat). Not horrible, but not wonderful either.
We arrived in Chicago, and I dashed out to get into the customer service line that I knew would get long. My boss's boss (hereafter referred to as $BB) had been booked on the same flights; he was seated rather farther back, so he caught up to me when I was halfway to the front of the line. We got to the front, hoping to catch the not-yet-boarded flight to San Francisco that evening, but were told that it was full, as were all flights in the morning to San Francisco, Oakland, and San Jose (much less Sacramento). They offered a flight that would get us there the next night (I bet it was the same flight the people who volunteered to wait in Boston would end up on), but we (politely) pointed out that we had an important meeting the next morning in Sacramento. Was there any flight that would get us farther west? Another airline connection would be fine with us. The customer service guy started typing. I edited a form about cheap hotels near O'Hare. He kept typing, and I started stressing a little. However, the rep came through for us: we were on a night flight to LAX, arriving around 1 A.M., then taking a 6:50 A.M. Delta flight to Sacramento, arriving 8:30. Excellent. I asked about the checked luggage, and that would come in at 10:30 on a flight that had no seats for us. OK.
We waited for the LAX flight, and $BB started calling around, telling people we'd be late, and arranging hotel rooms near LAX (insert Expedia frustrations here). I think if it had been just me, I'd've just hung around the airport; I wasn't going to complain about it.
Happily, the flight to LAX, while delayed a little, was uneventful, though did include the annoyance of being in the middle seat between people who took their armrests. I was exhausted, but continue to be unable to sleep sitting up. Not fun.
We didn't have to wait for bags, just went out to the hotel shuttle van. Unluckily for us, it was the kind of van that goes to many hotels, not just one, and we were among the last to be let off the crowded shuttle. And then we were in line for ages while a family with some kind of complicated situation checked in, taking more than a quarter of an hour. I just stood there, numb with lack of sleep, begrudging every minute of possible sleep they were taking from me. I don't know why none of the other employees helped when they saw there was a line...
We got toothbrushes and stuff, and went off to find the rooms. In the end, the maximum sleep I could get was three hours, and of course I couldn't fall asleep immediately, despite my exhaustion. I did send a mental wave to FJ!!, wondering just how late is too late to call (if I'd even had a number, that is).
The wake-up call was late; luckily I'd woken up just before 5 anyway (I hate getting up before dawn, because my nervousness about oversleeping makes my sleep quality plummet, no matter how good an alarm I set). I grabbed a shower (what a difference that made to my alertness!), surprised at how low the ceiling was, then went down to meet $BB and catch the shuttle van back to the airport.
We checked in, and were both marked for extra security, presumably because of the flight change. I'd understand that more if we'd done a last-minute change, rather than it being a ripple of a weather effect. Everyone else pulled aside was wanded; for some reason, I was patted down instead. Nothing to find, of course, so we made our connecting flight. I was interested to see that it was only a quarter full, even though it was a smallish plane (three across rather than six across). Fine by me, though!
That flight was also uneventful (more water and a little packet of snacks, this time, astonishingly, peanuts (and not certified, either)). We got into Sacramento without a problem, and figured that the best option was to wait for our bags rather than go to the meetings in the somewhat grubby and non-professional clothes we had on. We met up with my boss ($B), who also made it in before her bags, and sat around the airport.
I like the Sacramento airport; it's not huge, but there's some restaurants and whatnot, and I could look out and see planes on one side, and the countryside on the other. There's also a hotel right there, were one in need of it. Plus there was some fun art: two of the big columns supporting the lofty ceiling by the baggage return were replaced by enormous stacks of old luggage all glued together somehow (quite solidly; one had a fire alarm in it, even). It made me smile every time I looked that way. And there were huge 'insects' coming out of the parking garage, made of metal and stained glass.
We waited, and I realized I was really, really hungry; I'd brought a bit less food than usual for the previous day's travel, and that was long gone; there wasn't much of anything here that wasn't total junk. Hrm.
Happily, my and $BB's bags arrived as predicted at 10:30. $B's bag, on the other hand, did not show up around 11, so it was projected to arrive near midnight, by which time it would be too late to be delivered. Blechy for her. She was much more appropriately dressed for a meeting, however...
We hopped a cab to the hotel, and did a quick refresh-and-change before catching another cab to the hotel where the meeting was, arriving noonish. Not great, but not horrible either, as it turned out.
That was the travel there.
Travel coming back was much simpler, thank goodness. The original plan was to return Thursday afternoon with a short stopover in Denver, arriving in Boston at midnight-thirty. However, late Tuesday afternoon I got word that we could leave the following day, and $BB and $B had both switched flights. I called United to move my flights a day earlier (the $100 fee will be reimbursed, and was certainly less than another night in the hotel, anyway), and after quite a long time on hold, was told that it was done. The other two were on the same flights, too. Excellent.
Wednesday we got a cab from the hotel where the meeting was. The automated check-in computer didn't offer me the option of the correct day's travel, so I had to wait a while until a real human could help me. I was nervous about making the flight, but it was all fine. She said something about how the person the previous day had changed but not exchanged my flights (or was it the other way round? something like that, anyway). Whatever. I checked my bag and we all made it through the scanners (which amusingly had a big glassed-in display of all kinds of tools one was not allowed to take onboard) in plenty of time to get on the plane. Yay!
The downside: I was in a middle seat again. However, it's easier to deal with when not wholly exhausted, and the woman in the window seat turned out to be quite a conversationalist. If I'd been able to focus more on my book, it might've been a nuisance, but as it was, it was fine to ride the wave of her (sometimes partially heard) words to pass the time. Added bonus: she pointed out the smoke from the forest fires we were passing over, and was good about giving me a good view of the landscape below (including the fantastic switchback curves of some rivers, obviously well below the level of the rest of the land).
We arrived in Denver on time, so I wasn't concerned with making the connection. I was concerned, however, when I stepped into the connecting corridor thing and it was extremely hot. I told myself it would be better in the terminal, and it was, but not by a lot; I don't know what was wrong with the air-conditioning, but it made the layover rather unpleasant. I checked the departures board, and there was an earlier (delayed) flight to Boston just getting ready to board! I dashed over to see whether there were seats available, and there were, though mostly middle seats. I knew we'd all be happy to get home an hour earlier, no matter where the seats were... but it turned out that we couldn't get on after all, because we'd checked bags that would be on the later flight. I can understand it, but it was really frustrating nonetheless.
I was able to change my middle seat to a window (aisle seats were long gone), which turned out to be an excellent choice. My row was far enough back that I could see them loading luggage into the hold, two guys putting suitcases on the conveyor belt while a third scanned the tags, making sure they were headed in the right direction, I assume.
We left the gate on time, taxiing what seemed like it must be at least half a mile, if not more, from the terminal. This meant that I was finally able to see the famed white tepee-ness of the Denver airport. Once we'd passed a berm that blocked the lower part, it really did look like a grouping of white tepees, though far too close together. I was surprised at how flat the land all around the airport was, the mountains in the distance to the west of it (OK, I'd also been surprised at how flat it was around Sacramento, too, without any mountains at all.).
We were finally cleared for liftoff, and I was again surprised at how much of the land is under cultivation. Even the places that weren't green were obviously plowed (or something); I could see the patterns. Actually, I found them very interesting, seeing the geometric patterns people chose, sometimes to avoid part of one field (a stream, a house, whatever), but sometimes it just looked like someone was amusing zirself, keeping whatever monotony at bay by trying different patterns to cover the same area. The other surprise was how some of the areas irrigated by long arms that revolve weren't for the whole circular areas, perhaps a half, or three-quarters, or some other fraction. Of course, I started thinking word problems, if I could get good enough photos :-).
We pierced the cloud layer (wispy in some places), and I was dazzled by a sunlit cloud mesa ahead while the rest of the plane was no longer directly lit. Wow. I kept looking back after we'd passed it.
Eventually it grew dark. I couldn't see any stars, just the constant light at the end of the wing, then finally realized that some of the other flashes weren't the plane at all, but a lightning storm. I can't call it a thunderstorm, because the noisy drone of the plane kept any sound at bay, but the lightning was impressive, even though most of the actual strikes were obscured by clouds. They lit up the clouds, of course, and it struck me how we just say, "oh, a thunderstorm," the name making it a normal thing, while really, if there were huge bolts of power released in some story, it would be fantastical. It was gorgeous, and a little bit nervous-making while we were close by.
A while after that, the night and the lack of clouds showed the too-regular constellations of towns and cities below. I wish Google maps had a night view, so I could figure out what I was looking at. Only later was I able to see some of the real stars above, much whiter and random (and less dense) than what was below. Just beautiful.
The cloud cover was low when we landed, but the pilots did an excellent job. I was far enough back that I couldn't rush for the exit, but I knew it didn't make any difference anyway, since I could see them just starting to unload the bags. One of the guys looked up, saw me peering out (well, a head at the window, I suppose), and we waved. I watched a while, and realized that the bags that needed to continue onward hadn't been in a separate section in the hold, perhaps closer to the door, but at least all together. Nothing like that; someone was checking each bag as it came out. I'd think it would be more efficient to at least try to have them ready to go on. Oh, and one guy was literally throwing bags into one trailer; no wonder things get broken sometimes!
Down to the luggage carousel, bag retrieved, cab home. It's good to be home.
What actually happened was rather different.
I checked in, got scanned and whatnot, and went to the gate... to find that the previous hour's flight to Chicago hadn't yet left, and my (5:14) flight was delayed, and it was overbooked also, and did anyone want to give up their seat? That would have meant arriving in Sacramento Monday night rather than Sunday night, so I didn't volunteer. I did have to go up to the desk because seats hadn't been assigned, and they did that piecemeal after they'd gotten enough people off the flight. So I sat. And sat. As did the crowds of people around waiting for the various Chicago flights.
It was never announced, but the reason for the delay that was being talked about was weather. All I could see was that it was overcast, but apparently there were thunderstorms, and there were high winds (apparently gale-force winds in Manchester NH, but they flew anyway. V. strange). People got more frustrated as we continued not to get any information, and the chance of catching connecting flights diminished.
Eventually, we boarded, and I discovered that the window seat I was in was not only near the door (good for dashing to the next exit), but had extra legroom because the row ahead of me was by an exit in such a way that there were only two seats. Excellent. And we were boarding, and it might all actually work.
Except that we then sat on the tarmac. And sat. The door was closed, but we didn't move. And then there were announcements that anyone who'd like to get off the flight should do so now. I was surprised at how many people did this; more than half a dozen queued up, at least. And their luggage wasn't going to be retrieved from the cargo hold, either. After a bit, they leave, and we sit again.
About two hours late, we pull back from the gate, and join the line of planes taking off. That moved slowly (it was a long line), then we were finally airborne, climbing up into the cloudscape and above it into the brilliantly lit space above, chasing the sun across the continent.
I'd forgotten, in my aisle-seat zeal, the glories of having a window to look out of, and not just in glimpses. The clouds are glorious, every time making me think they're more solid than they are. I look out and see a wonderful landscape to climb, hiking the irregular lumpy foothills up to the sunny cloud mountains above.
Anyway. Partway through the flight, I realized that even with gaining an hour, the connecting flight in Chicago just wasn't going to happen (leaving two hours late when there's about an hour in between flights doesn't work, no matter how I sliced it). On the plus side mentally, going for the earlier flight wouldn't've gotten me there in time either, so no need to berate myself.
Compared to my last business trip on JetBlue, United has less legroom, fewer snacks (pretzels only, not an array of choices, plus the water was in open cups rather than reclosable bottles), and fewer entertainments (one channel for the plane rather than choosable by seat). Not horrible, but not wonderful either.
We arrived in Chicago, and I dashed out to get into the customer service line that I knew would get long. My boss's boss (hereafter referred to as $BB) had been booked on the same flights; he was seated rather farther back, so he caught up to me when I was halfway to the front of the line. We got to the front, hoping to catch the not-yet-boarded flight to San Francisco that evening, but were told that it was full, as were all flights in the morning to San Francisco, Oakland, and San Jose (much less Sacramento). They offered a flight that would get us there the next night (I bet it was the same flight the people who volunteered to wait in Boston would end up on), but we (politely) pointed out that we had an important meeting the next morning in Sacramento. Was there any flight that would get us farther west? Another airline connection would be fine with us. The customer service guy started typing. I edited a form about cheap hotels near O'Hare. He kept typing, and I started stressing a little. However, the rep came through for us: we were on a night flight to LAX, arriving around 1 A.M., then taking a 6:50 A.M. Delta flight to Sacramento, arriving 8:30. Excellent. I asked about the checked luggage, and that would come in at 10:30 on a flight that had no seats for us. OK.
We waited for the LAX flight, and $BB started calling around, telling people we'd be late, and arranging hotel rooms near LAX (insert Expedia frustrations here). I think if it had been just me, I'd've just hung around the airport; I wasn't going to complain about it.
Happily, the flight to LAX, while delayed a little, was uneventful, though did include the annoyance of being in the middle seat between people who took their armrests. I was exhausted, but continue to be unable to sleep sitting up. Not fun.
We didn't have to wait for bags, just went out to the hotel shuttle van. Unluckily for us, it was the kind of van that goes to many hotels, not just one, and we were among the last to be let off the crowded shuttle. And then we were in line for ages while a family with some kind of complicated situation checked in, taking more than a quarter of an hour. I just stood there, numb with lack of sleep, begrudging every minute of possible sleep they were taking from me. I don't know why none of the other employees helped when they saw there was a line...
We got toothbrushes and stuff, and went off to find the rooms. In the end, the maximum sleep I could get was three hours, and of course I couldn't fall asleep immediately, despite my exhaustion. I did send a mental wave to FJ!!, wondering just how late is too late to call (if I'd even had a number, that is).
The wake-up call was late; luckily I'd woken up just before 5 anyway (I hate getting up before dawn, because my nervousness about oversleeping makes my sleep quality plummet, no matter how good an alarm I set). I grabbed a shower (what a difference that made to my alertness!), surprised at how low the ceiling was, then went down to meet $BB and catch the shuttle van back to the airport.
We checked in, and were both marked for extra security, presumably because of the flight change. I'd understand that more if we'd done a last-minute change, rather than it being a ripple of a weather effect. Everyone else pulled aside was wanded; for some reason, I was patted down instead. Nothing to find, of course, so we made our connecting flight. I was interested to see that it was only a quarter full, even though it was a smallish plane (three across rather than six across). Fine by me, though!
That flight was also uneventful (more water and a little packet of snacks, this time, astonishingly, peanuts (and not certified, either)). We got into Sacramento without a problem, and figured that the best option was to wait for our bags rather than go to the meetings in the somewhat grubby and non-professional clothes we had on. We met up with my boss ($B), who also made it in before her bags, and sat around the airport.
I like the Sacramento airport; it's not huge, but there's some restaurants and whatnot, and I could look out and see planes on one side, and the countryside on the other. There's also a hotel right there, were one in need of it. Plus there was some fun art: two of the big columns supporting the lofty ceiling by the baggage return were replaced by enormous stacks of old luggage all glued together somehow (quite solidly; one had a fire alarm in it, even). It made me smile every time I looked that way. And there were huge 'insects' coming out of the parking garage, made of metal and stained glass.
We waited, and I realized I was really, really hungry; I'd brought a bit less food than usual for the previous day's travel, and that was long gone; there wasn't much of anything here that wasn't total junk. Hrm.
Happily, my and $BB's bags arrived as predicted at 10:30. $B's bag, on the other hand, did not show up around 11, so it was projected to arrive near midnight, by which time it would be too late to be delivered. Blechy for her. She was much more appropriately dressed for a meeting, however...
We hopped a cab to the hotel, and did a quick refresh-and-change before catching another cab to the hotel where the meeting was, arriving noonish. Not great, but not horrible either, as it turned out.
That was the travel there.
Travel coming back was much simpler, thank goodness. The original plan was to return Thursday afternoon with a short stopover in Denver, arriving in Boston at midnight-thirty. However, late Tuesday afternoon I got word that we could leave the following day, and $BB and $B had both switched flights. I called United to move my flights a day earlier (the $100 fee will be reimbursed, and was certainly less than another night in the hotel, anyway), and after quite a long time on hold, was told that it was done. The other two were on the same flights, too. Excellent.
Wednesday we got a cab from the hotel where the meeting was. The automated check-in computer didn't offer me the option of the correct day's travel, so I had to wait a while until a real human could help me. I was nervous about making the flight, but it was all fine. She said something about how the person the previous day had changed but not exchanged my flights (or was it the other way round? something like that, anyway). Whatever. I checked my bag and we all made it through the scanners (which amusingly had a big glassed-in display of all kinds of tools one was not allowed to take onboard) in plenty of time to get on the plane. Yay!
The downside: I was in a middle seat again. However, it's easier to deal with when not wholly exhausted, and the woman in the window seat turned out to be quite a conversationalist. If I'd been able to focus more on my book, it might've been a nuisance, but as it was, it was fine to ride the wave of her (sometimes partially heard) words to pass the time. Added bonus: she pointed out the smoke from the forest fires we were passing over, and was good about giving me a good view of the landscape below (including the fantastic switchback curves of some rivers, obviously well below the level of the rest of the land).
We arrived in Denver on time, so I wasn't concerned with making the connection. I was concerned, however, when I stepped into the connecting corridor thing and it was extremely hot. I told myself it would be better in the terminal, and it was, but not by a lot; I don't know what was wrong with the air-conditioning, but it made the layover rather unpleasant. I checked the departures board, and there was an earlier (delayed) flight to Boston just getting ready to board! I dashed over to see whether there were seats available, and there were, though mostly middle seats. I knew we'd all be happy to get home an hour earlier, no matter where the seats were... but it turned out that we couldn't get on after all, because we'd checked bags that would be on the later flight. I can understand it, but it was really frustrating nonetheless.
I was able to change my middle seat to a window (aisle seats were long gone), which turned out to be an excellent choice. My row was far enough back that I could see them loading luggage into the hold, two guys putting suitcases on the conveyor belt while a third scanned the tags, making sure they were headed in the right direction, I assume.
We left the gate on time, taxiing what seemed like it must be at least half a mile, if not more, from the terminal. This meant that I was finally able to see the famed white tepee-ness of the Denver airport. Once we'd passed a berm that blocked the lower part, it really did look like a grouping of white tepees, though far too close together. I was surprised at how flat the land all around the airport was, the mountains in the distance to the west of it (OK, I'd also been surprised at how flat it was around Sacramento, too, without any mountains at all.).
We were finally cleared for liftoff, and I was again surprised at how much of the land is under cultivation. Even the places that weren't green were obviously plowed (or something); I could see the patterns. Actually, I found them very interesting, seeing the geometric patterns people chose, sometimes to avoid part of one field (a stream, a house, whatever), but sometimes it just looked like someone was amusing zirself, keeping whatever monotony at bay by trying different patterns to cover the same area. The other surprise was how some of the areas irrigated by long arms that revolve weren't for the whole circular areas, perhaps a half, or three-quarters, or some other fraction. Of course, I started thinking word problems, if I could get good enough photos :-).
We pierced the cloud layer (wispy in some places), and I was dazzled by a sunlit cloud mesa ahead while the rest of the plane was no longer directly lit. Wow. I kept looking back after we'd passed it.
Eventually it grew dark. I couldn't see any stars, just the constant light at the end of the wing, then finally realized that some of the other flashes weren't the plane at all, but a lightning storm. I can't call it a thunderstorm, because the noisy drone of the plane kept any sound at bay, but the lightning was impressive, even though most of the actual strikes were obscured by clouds. They lit up the clouds, of course, and it struck me how we just say, "oh, a thunderstorm," the name making it a normal thing, while really, if there were huge bolts of power released in some story, it would be fantastical. It was gorgeous, and a little bit nervous-making while we were close by.
A while after that, the night and the lack of clouds showed the too-regular constellations of towns and cities below. I wish Google maps had a night view, so I could figure out what I was looking at. Only later was I able to see some of the real stars above, much whiter and random (and less dense) than what was below. Just beautiful.
The cloud cover was low when we landed, but the pilots did an excellent job. I was far enough back that I couldn't rush for the exit, but I knew it didn't make any difference anyway, since I could see them just starting to unload the bags. One of the guys looked up, saw me peering out (well, a head at the window, I suppose), and we waved. I watched a while, and realized that the bags that needed to continue onward hadn't been in a separate section in the hold, perhaps closer to the door, but at least all together. Nothing like that; someone was checking each bag as it came out. I'd think it would be more efficient to at least try to have them ready to go on. Oh, and one guy was literally throwing bags into one trailer; no wonder things get broken sometimes!
Down to the luggage carousel, bag retrieved, cab home. It's good to be home.
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no subject
Date: 2007-07-19 11:44 pm (UTC)climbing up into the cloudscape and above it into the brilliantly lit space above, chasing the sun across the continent
I like that a lot.
All of what you saw on the ground from above and in the sky from within sound so beautiful.
I remember the first time I saw lightning not as a flash that lit up the sky but as an actual bolt reaching from high above all the way down to the ground off in the distance. It's incredible.
The art and displays at the Sacramento airport sound really cool.
I'm not finding the right words, but this is a really nice write-up. Your reflections, your reports of what you observe in the mundane and the frustrating, are impressive.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-20 03:33 pm (UTC)I find air travel incredibly exhausting, the combination of waiting around with stress plus non-optimal air quality and hydration levels, but seeing the world above is always beautiful.
I've seen actual bolts a few times, but never ones that I could see striking the ground. It's still very impressive (and scary, in a shivery enjoyable way with an edge of real fear based on the possibility of something going horribly wrong).
For the most part, Sacramento was pretty nice, airport and all. I think I had more time than most to appreciate the art there :-).
Thanks again.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-20 07:40 am (UTC)Google Maps doesn't, but Google Earth now does, if you're able to run that? It's part of the 'featured content' from NASA.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-20 03:29 pm (UTC)