Down By The Bay... Where The Strippers Goooo!

despite my deep-rooted fears, we arrived in San Francisco safe and sound. Tuesday night we never went to bed, and left our house at 2am. We are both eleventh-hour packers, so we spent our last moments at home throwing things into suitcases. Eariler, we brought Matty to Aunt Beverly and Uncle Phil's house, and he had fun playing dog games with his "cousin" Hudson. We kissed him goodbye and left; as we were leaving his tail started to droop, which killed me.

The airport was uneventful at three in the morning. (Flying cheap means flying early). It was a 50 passenger plane (little!) that wasn't even full, so we were able to spread out. I was nervous as we got closer to boarding, and when we were walking that final walk onto the plane itself, I began to get tears filling my eyes. Robert, wisely, didn't say anything. He was 100% un-nervous about flying, which annoyed me. He spent our entire waiting period before the flight chattering happily and excitedly about the convention, which annoyed me because i wanted to stew in my own worry juices. (Usually I enjoy this "annoying" chatter habit of his).

We sat in our seats and he turned me and said, "Oh my god, I just got tired." Imediately, he fell asleep. (I have no idea how he does this.) I glared at his slumped over head. The plane started to take off. I shook him awake. "HOLD ME! Talk to me!" I begged him. "Mmmm. Love you. zzzz." was about all I got out of him.

We were quite the pair; he was so calm he was snoring and I was terrified out of my mind. I watched the lights on the ground miles below me twinkle as acid churned itself out of my stomach and made me ill. I've never been so scared. The flight attendants passed out cheerios and I ate mine individually, counting each one for distraction. (246 in case you're curious; I dropped #11).

We landed in Houston safely, where I called my grandmother and text messaged Phil (actually, I texted you, Phil, the second we landed, we were still taxing). Gram thought it was neat that I was calling her from Texas, where we had a 45 minute layover. Our flight to California was uneventful, too. It was a fuller plane, and a larger one; 200+ folks on board. We sat next to an older woman who had flown from Peru to Houston and was going to visit a friend. I managed to calm down considerably on this flight and watch a movie, and I might be an old pro by the time we get back to New York.

Our hotel room is adorable, which, yes, means it's small. But a good small. A cozy small. We walked in after nine long hours of traveling, and dropped our bags. "The first thing we need to do is check for wi-fi!" said my tech-minded fiance. Dork.

"Are you sure that's the FIRST THING you want to do?" I jumped into the middle of the king-sized bed and grinned at him. "There isn't ANYTHING you want to do first?"

Checking for wi-fi was the second thing he did.

(We have to pay for it in our hotel room, which is bull, so we're hunting the city for free wi-fi).

I went to bed around 9 and he went out with one of his friends to a bar. I was exausted, but alive, and that's how I like it.


We got up this morning and had breakfast, then went to fisherman's warf, which is where everyone goes when they come to San Francisco. We saw cutie pie harbor seals, ate at In-n-Out Burger, went to the Aquarium where I got to pet a sting ray (slimy and soft!) and a dog fish (smooth or rough, depending on which direction you rub it.) The cable cars are as neat to ride as they look, and I finally got to see the bay this city is famous for (and I sang "Down By The Bay" by Raffi). We viewed Alcatraz in the distance and I got to see the Golden Gate bridge. Unfortunately, it rained almost the entire time, and I got soggy.

We met up with two of Rob's friends and the four of us headed to "the best strip club in San Francisco" where I got great tips on keeping my skin "stripper soft".

This is not the vacation my Grandmother would approve of.