My husband, two daughters (DD17 and DD14) arrived in San Francisco yesterday around 5 pm. There were no direct flights from Indy to San Francisco, so we had a layover in Minneapolis. Flight out of Minneapolis was supposed to be delayed at least an hour because of mechanical problems, but wound up only delayed by 45 min. It seems that there wasn’t a mechanical problem, just a miscommunication. Hurray!
We hit quite a bit of turbulence about midway through the flight. I was so glad I had taken Bonine; it helps so much with motion sickness. The rough flight didn’t bother me at all.
We grabbed a taxi at the airport, and it was quite a ride! It started out okay, but got progressively worse. As we approached the city, I was impressed by the view of the houses climbing up the hills like stair steps. The driver seemed nice. He was polite, and friendly, but drove like a madman. He kept driving in the turn lanes, speeding past all of the slow traffic, and then cutting someone off to get back into the correct lane. He would also speed right up to a stopped car, and slam on his brakes at the last minute. He even did this once to a man who was getting his toddler out of the back seat of his car, and then the driver complained that the man was a bad dad! I kept squeezing my husband’s knee, and once I even said, “We’re going to die.” The worst part came at the end of the ride. I told him the street address and intersection for our rental apartment on Jackson St., but he hit Jackson a couple of blocks too far west. The street is one way, so he couldn’t turn in the correct direction. Instead, he backed down it! I’m not kidding! When a car came up the street travelling in the correct direction, and blocked our path, he said, “That’s okay, they’ll get out of the way.” And they did. I’d had enough by then, so I said we could just get out where we were, and walk downhill to the apartment.
Our apartment is lovely, with a nice view of the Bay Bridge. We unpacked, and I took pictures of the apartment before we had a chance to mess it up. We walked to dinner at Sotto Mare. Everyone enjoyed their meal. My husband got the cioppino, and he ate the whole thing, minus a few tidbits the girls and I stole from him. With the time difference, we were all getting pretty tired, so we headed back to the apartment and called it a night.