Getaway Day; In Transit

We've made it. Yes, made it all the way to the airport. It's going to be a long day, or rather days. Leaving San Diego at 10:00 am, we won't arrive in Biarritz until 9:00 pm tomorrow thanks to connections in Salt Lake City, Paris, and Marseille. Why? Because we're cheap..also the reason we're leaving with less than a day between this and the Oregon trip. The airfare today was cheaper than tomorrow; ditto for a trip with three connections (with a five hour layover in Marseille!). Good news is that on the way home we only have one stop (JFK). That, too, was because it was the least expensive fare, not through any planning. We did, however, splurge on "economy plus seats" or whatever Delta calls the seats with about a quarter of an inch more leg room. I purchased these seats a month or so after the initial reservations, so the cost didn't seem that much. In reality, I have no idea how much the airfare was.

Set to go..bags going to France. We may opt for Maui.

Dave's Journal:
Journal: The Trip To Bunionful:

Day One: We’re ready. Really, really ready. Really, really, really ready. Got home from Oregon at 10 AM; spent the rest of the day re (and re-re- and re-re-re) organizing our packs. Thought of the 10%-of-body-weight limit utterly gone. (Example: Since we’re unlikely to find gyms in Spain, we’re packing our 5 and 10 lb hand weights. Hey, arm strength is important!) Okay, maybe a tiny exaggeration.

We leave just as the new "glamor" photos of Caitlyn Jenner go public. As a person who is older than Caitlyn, allow me to offer an opinion: There is very (very, very) little "glamor" in being this age. There are other attractive things to be sure to enjoy and admire about women (and new women) at this age, but glamor – a false and arbitrary illusion created to sell things (including photographs of the celebrity of the moment) - isn't one of them. It is for this reason that I tease Scout, a woman of many appealing qualities (okay: many, many, many) when she attempts to get "dolled up." Simply put: she isn’t a doll; she’s something vastly better. Put another way, suppose it was the social convention of our culture to dress as chickens when going for a night out. (Hey, would you look at the comb on that one!)

(Okay, It’s evident I’m trapped on the SD to SLC hop with nothing else to do and lots of time to do it.)

Last observation: although the young guy occupying our window seat (we always go for aisle (for Mister Tiny Bladder) and center (for Mr. TB’s patient companion), seems affable and not too chatty, he is tall and the optimum window seat companion is a teenaged girl, i.e., a person guaranteed to spend the entire flight praying to her Smart Phone without once speaking or getting up. (Of course, since we are impossibly ancient, why would a teenager speak to either of us?)

She's smiling now; 4 hours in SLC, 8 more to Paris, then.....

Ok, that's it from SLC...probably won't blog until we are in France, so with that, I say adieu.

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