San Francisco!

Yep, another work trip. This time to California, where I got to stay at The Palace Hotel. Nice place, but my room smelled like decades of cigarette smoke that will never quite dissapate. I can't complain too much though.

Travel was amusing again, watching people in the airport and such. There was a page for "Mrs. Osama," who must have a hard time flying, the group of blondes headed to a wedding in San Francisco (overheard: "You two are like, Barack Obama and, like, his vice president"...because we don't know his name?), and my favorite, the increasingly urgent overhead paging for people who aren't where they're supposed to be. You can tell the people doing the paging get annoyed when they're holding a plane for 1 straggler who wandered into a gift shop or the bathroom and forgot that they were supposed to be on a plane. I can't say I blame them. Just once though I'd like them to get on the intercom and say what's really going through their heads:

"Mr. Doe, Mr. John Doe, please report to gate A28 for boarding."
"Mr. Doe, Mr. John Doe, your flight is ready to leave and we're all wondering what's keeping you. Please get to gate A28 if you would like to come along."
"Mr. Doe, Mr. John Doe, your wife told you not to eat burritos the night before a flight. Don't you wish you'd taken the pepto she offered you on the way out the door?"
"Hey, Mr. John Doe, screw this, we're out of here. And when you come up here all pissed that we didn't wait for you, I'm going to laugh in your face and revoke your frequent flier status. Neener neener."

But that won't happen.