Swansea Here We Come!

I finally get my BLM permit for Swansea.

Miners houses at Swansea Town SiteIn December 2004, I applied for a permit to conduct helicopter tours to Swansea Town Site. Swansea is a ghost town in a remote area of the Arizona desert, west of Alamo Lake, south of the Bill Williams River, north of Bouse, and east of Parker. I takes about 3 hours to get there by car — well, by Jeep, since a car can’t make it on the sometimes sandy, sometimes rocky dirt roads — and about 40 minutes to get there by helicopter. The idea was to take day trippers out to the town site, let them walk around with a BLM self-guided walking tour brochure, give them some refreshments when they’re done, and fly them back to Wickenburg. The trip would cost $495 for up to three passengers.

Miners houses at Swansea Town SiteYou might be asking why I need a permit to use public land. BLM, in case you’re not aware, stands for Bureau of Land Management. It’s a part of the Department of the Interior. Of the Federal Government. These are government managed lands that belong to the people. And the people can use them, as long as they follow certain rules. Among those rules are that if you want to make money by operating a tour or anything else on BLM lands, you have to get a permit.

I applied for that permit in December. It cost me $80 that was not refundable and there was no guarantee that I’d get the permit. Talk about gambling!

Of course, I didn’t get any response at all to my application. I followed up in January. That’s when I was told they needed more information, like proposed landing zones. So I took my helicopter, which was brand spanking new at the time, and my GPS, and John and Lorna, and flew out to Swansea. I landed on my preferred landing zone, which was near the middle of town, and walked around taking GPS readings of the places that would work as landing zones. I came up with about seven of them. I also took photos. One photo showed my preferred landing zone, which just happened to have my helicopter in it.

When I got back to my office, I fed the GPS coordinates into my mapping software to produce a topo map with the coordinates on it. I then numbered them in order of preference. I took the photos from the flight, stuck it in an envelope with a cover letter and the map, and sent it to BLM in Lake Havasu.

A few days later I got a message on my voicemail from BLM scolding me for landing at Swansea. It was my understanding that as a private citizen on personal recreation (not for hire), I was allowed to land on BLM land, as long as it wasn’t wilderness area or my landing would cause damage (common sense stuff). So I wrote a letter back to them. They replied grudgingly, in writing, that I was right. It’s one of those letters you keep, if you know what I mean.

Next, they told me they’d have to do an environmental impact study. This irked me for two reasons:

  • The majority of people who come to Swansea do so on ATVs and some of them have no qualms about tearing up the desert with their fat little tires. They don’t care about archeological sites or desert tortoises. Irresponsible. Yet when I land, my vehicle touches the ground in precisely two long places — where my skids touch down — and I don’t damage a thing.
  • This environmental impact study, which I thought was a waste of time and money, would be done with taxpayer dollars. I’m a taxpayer. And it made me wonder how much other wasteful spending BLM did.

But you can’t fight them. You really can’t. So although I voiced my protest and even wrote to my senators and congressmen, I had no choice but to wait.

In actuality, what I did was write off the $80 as a bad investment and swear I’d never send another dime to BLM.

Time passed. The guy who was working my case retired. I really didn’t expect to ever hear from BLM again.

Then, in December, my cell phone rang while I was at the airport putting away the helicopter after a flight. It was a new person from BLM. He introduced himself and said he was working on my application.

“Bad news?” I asked, figuring he was calling to say that it had been turned down.

“Well, no,” he replied, sounding a bit surprised. “At least I don’t think so. We’re almost done with the application and it looks like it will be approved.”

I tried not to sound shocked. He went on to tell me that he’d need BLM listed on my insurance policy as an additional named insured (no problem). We then had a very pleasant conversation about Swansea and what a great place it was. He was very friendly and knowledgeable and a real pleasure to talk to. I wrote his name and phone number down so I could follow up.

Of course, I lost that information. (if you saw my desk, you’d know why.)

Months passed. Then on Thursday of last week, my BLM man called again. He wanted to put the permit in the mail, but needed the insurance. No problem, I assured him. I’d fax it over. He gave me his name and fax number. (Can you believe I lost them again?) Today, I called the office, got the information I needed, and faxed over the insurance. And when I got home from work the permit was in my mailbox.

I still can’t believe it.

Now I know my original contact had warned me that the process could take as much as six months. Well, he really said 180 days. But maybe he meant 16 months? Or 480 days? Because that’s how long it took. The government doesn’t exactly move quickly. (Look at New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.)

The permit is a simple piece of paper. The letter that came with it has some restrictions that are easy to live with. Only 3 allowed landing zones — none of which is my preferred, but one of which is very good. A maximum visit of 2 hours — as if there will be someone there with a stopwatch to time us. No overnight camping. No more than four people total — that’s all that my helicopter can seat anyway, so it would be impossible to bring more.

My contact told me he needs to chat with me before I start using the permit. i’ll call him on Thursday.

In the meantime, I’m looking forward to adding the Swansea Ghost Town tour to Flying M Air’s Web site.

A Glimpse of the Edge of Nowhere

Where I live.

The other day, Mike took his mom and I for a ride in his plane. I sat in the back seat with my 7-piglet digital camera and took some photos of the Wickenburg area from the air.

My Home at the Edge of NowhereThis is a photo of my house, taken from the southeast at about 2,000 feet above ground level (AGL to us pilot types). I circled my house so you could see it. So when I say that I live at the edge of nowhere, I’m not kidding. Our “neighborhood” stretches off to the northwest from our house. Most homes out there are on about 1.6 acres of land. Our immediate neighbors have 2.5 (like us) or 5 or even 10 acres. It’s a nice arrangement with plenty of spacing between us. No need to close the blinds at night. Lots of privacy. Space for our horses and chickens.

It bothers me that so many developers are trying to squeeze high density housing into Wickenburg’s available land. Most of the folks I know who came to Wickenburg five or more years ago (like us) came here because of the wide open spaces and loosely packed housing. It’s a quality of life thing. If you want to live on top of your neighbors, you can do that in any major U.S. city. Leave the outlying areas — the towns on the edge of nowhere — for the folks who don’t want their roof inches away from their neighbors’.

Of course, when a developer’s only motivation is squeezing as many dollars out of an acre of land as possible, he’s not likely to respect the wishes of the people who lived in the area before he came along and snatched up all the vacant land.

And what do the developers care about the quality of life when they’re not living in the urban sprawl they’ve created?

But it’s a crime when the elected officials of a town go along with the developer’s plans, despite the wishes of the people that voted them into office.

Silly me. I thought we lived in a democracy.

Sedona Sky Ranch

One of Sedona’s little secrets.

When we have out-of-town guests, we sometimes take them to the usual tourist spots in Arizona. (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve taken people to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.) This past week, Mike’s mother has been in town. And over the weekend, we took her to Sedona for an overnight stay.

Sedona is a beautiful place. It has also become a bit of a tourist trap. “Uptown” Sedona is full off gift shops and counters for booking tours. Its sidewalks are roamed by people trying to get you to come see their timeshare opportunities. (I never could understand the attraction of timeshares.) If you’re looking for a t-shirt or a piece of Indian jewelry or some junky souvenir of red rock country, this is the place to come.

Uptown Sedona is right at the mouth of Oak Creek Canyon, a beautiful spot with a year-round creek, shady trees, and towering cliffs. A drive up through the canyon is the nicest way to reach Flagstaff, especially in the fall when the leaves on the trees along the creek are changing color.

So right before you reach the beauty of Oak Creek Canyon, you have to drive through the most touristy cluster of shops in Arizona. The same shops that block the views of some of the incredible red rocks that people have supposedly come to Sedona to see.

To be fair, Sedona’s local government has enacted certain zoning laws that require new construction to blend in with the environment. That’s why you’ll see a lot of reddish buildings. It’s also one of the few places I’ve seen dozens of homes painted a dark sage green–to match the scrubby desert pine trees that grow in the area. Unfortunately, those laws were not passed before Uptown Sedona was developed, so most of that area is pretty ugly.

We planned to spend the night in Sedona and needed a place to stay. We wanted to stay at a nice place–the last time we’d taken his mother on a trip in Arizona, we’d stayed at a weird place down near Tubac that had been built on top of an old missle silo. (I can’t make this stuff up.) Mike surfed the Web and came up with a place that included the word “Spa” in its name. The pictures looked good, but it was supposedly in West Sedona. I was worried that it would be too far away from the things his mom wanted to see–primarily shops–or tucked away in some back corner without any views. So I suggested a place where I knew there were good views: Sedona Sky Ranch.

Sedona Sky Ranch is Sedona’s airport motel. And that’s why so few people consider it as a place to stay. I consider it one of Sedona’s little secrets.

Sedona Airport is on a mesa just south of town. For those of you who didn’t pay attention during geology lessons in school, a mesa is a flat-topped mountain. There are a lot of them in Arizona and the rest of the southwest. Sedona’s airport sits on one of them. (The St. George, UT and Bagdad, AZ airports also sit on mesas.) It’s kind of neat because as you approach the runway in a plane, it’s a lot like landing on an aircraft carrier.

Sedona Sky Ranch is on the northwest side of the mesa, walking distance from the airport’s little terminal. It sits on the edge of the mesa and has about a dozen rooms that look right out over the town. And the red rocks beyond it.

View from Sedona Sky RanchWe’d reserved two Red Rock View rooms for the night. The rooms included 2 queen beds, a deck overlooking the views, and a kitchenette with a small fridge, microwave, and sink. And a bathroom, of course. Not what I’d call luxurious, but certainly very comfortable. And the views! At about 500 feet above the town, we didn’t have to look at any ugly commercial buildings. Sedona’s famous red rocks were right there. The photo here shows the view from our deck. The rock formation in the left center is called the Coffee Pot. (Think percolator.)

Mike and I shared a bottle of wine on the deck while the sun dropped down on the horizon, making the red rocks even redder. (Mike’s mom watched television in her room.) In the overlook parking area, which was a few hundred yards away, a native American musician played the drum and flute while tourists looked on. The sun set, the flute stopped abruptly, and the tourists got into their cars to go down to their hotels far below us. The full moon rose above the buttes in the east.

The next morning, when we checked out, we made reservations for October. We chose the cabin next door, which is slightly larger that our room, has a larger deck, and a slightly better view. We’ll drive up in the Jeep with Jack the Dog (they allow pets) and spend a few days exploring the back roads of the area while the autumn leaf show is in progress.

It’ll be a nice escape.

Oh, and that “spa” Mike found online? It was on the main road in West Sedona, right next to the Safeway shopping center. How’s that for atmosphere?

On Cell Phones

I think a lot of valid arguments can be made that cell phones are out of control. It’s gotten to the point that everyone seems to have one.

Or maybe I should say at least one. I had a real estate agent last year who carried two of them and a pager.

Is anyone really that important?

No matter where you go, you see someone with his cell phone pasted to the side of his head blabbing away, often oblivious to what’s going on around him. Or even funnier: apparently blabbing away to himself because he’s wearing some kind of fancy Bluetooth earpiece that looks suspiciously like communications head gear from the orginal Star Trek.

Do these people really need to be talking while they’re shopping for groceries, standing on line in the post office, crossing the street or — dare I say it — piloting their car through a crowded parking lot?

Does everyone need a cell phone? Even kids have them now. Heck, when I was a kid, it was a real treat to have an extension of the house phone in my bedroom. I didn’t have my own phone number, a number that would reach me any time of the day or night wherever I was.

Am I jealous of today’s kids and their cellphones? Hell, no! What’s so good about being reachable anywhere you are when you’re a teenager out goofing off with your friends?

I do, of course, have a cell phone. It’s for business — and I’m not just saying that. I set up my office phone number so I can forward it to my cell phone when I’m not at the office. People call that published number and reach me. I’ve booked more than a few helicopter flights on that phone.

And I do use the phone when I need information or need to tell someone something. Going to be late for an appointment? I call. Can’t find the street I’m supposed to turn on? I call. Need to know if we have any plans for next Tuesday night? I call. According to my phone bill, more than 80% of the calls I make last less than a minute.

The important word here is need. I use my cell phone when I need to. I don’t use it for idle chatter. There’s two reasons for that. First, I like to be comfortable when I’m chatting with a friend or family member. So I usually do it from home. Second, lengthy chats wear down the phone’s battery. A dead cell phone won’t meet my communication needs.

And no, I won’t buy the second battery pack. Or the colorful face plate or case. Or latest ring tone.

What’s with the ring tone thing anyway? I think that’s the most obnoxious part of cell phone usage.

We’ve all experienced this: You’re sitting in a restaurant with a friend/spouse/family, having a nice dinner, when the cell phone the idiot at the table behind you owns starts playing the cha-cha or the opening bars of a Def Leppard track or some digitized sound effect that sounds like a primal scream. He thinks its funny. Do you?

I don’t. I think it’s a selfish attempt to get attention at the expense of the people around him.

I read somewhere recently that people have no qualms about plunking down $10 for a ring tone but they hesitate when it comes to buying a new CD. (If anyone out there can find that piece online, please use the Comments link to share the URL; I can’t find it.)

My phone, a 1-1/2 year old Motorola flip phone, has a vibrate mode. Since I wear it on my belt, I feel it when it rings. If I don’t pick it up after a few moments, it plays a sound that’s kind of like a doorbell. A simple little chime. I’m not saying its not obnoxious — any sound a device makes in a public place is obnoxious — but it’s far less offensive than some. And frankly, every time I hear it in a public place and someone looks at me, I’m embarrassed. I don’t want to be seen as one of them. (And we all know who they are.)

Mike’s got one of those Razr phones. He says people are envious of him. The phone is extremely thin, has a built-in camera and e-mail features, and does more than my original computer did. (I’m sure it has more processing power, too.) But come on guys — it’s a phone. A phone.

I’d still have my original Motorola flip phone if it would work as well as the newer one. I liked it better. It was simpler and started up quicker. It was plain black and it didn’t have a color screen. It didn’t have to make a sound when you turned it on or shut it off. And it didn’t have a built-in camera, Internet capabilities, Bluetooth, and dozens of ring tones to choose from. It was a simple, small, easy to use phone. Like the original Princess phones. Although it no longer is connected to any network, it’ll still work for 911 calls. So I keep it and its car power adapter in my car, just in case I need to make that emergency call and my other phone is dead.

That’s what cell phones were originally for, isn’t it? Emergencies?

Anyway, what started this whole rampage about cell phones was an article I read on Slate.com about fiction where the cell phone becomes the villain. It’s called “Can You Fear Me Now? – The cell phone goes from annoying to evil” and it’s by Bryan Curtis.

Some of the stories aren’t that farfetched, either.

A Trip to Macworld Expo in San Francisco

I go to Macworld Expo, see new stuff, party with the Peachpitters, and still manage to find my hotel.

TehatchapiI took an America West — or is that US Airways? — flight from Phoenix to San Francisco on Thursday morning. The flight departed at around 8:15 AM and took off into the east into clear skies. The plane banked to the right until it was heading west, following I-10. I saw familiar sights out my window for most of the flight: Wickenburg, Harquahala Mountain, Salome, Bouse, the Colorado River, the road that runs past Rice and eventually past the north end of Joshua Tree National Park, the airport at Twentynine Palms, Big Bear Lake, Apple Valley, Edwards Air Force Base, and Rosamond. The jet took a route just south of the one I usually take when flying the helicopter from Wickenburg to California’s Central Valley, but because we were cruising at about 30,000 feet, I could see so much more. The lake at Rosamond seemed huge, the windmills on the Tehatchapi’s southern slopes were clearly visible. The pass was socked in on both sides with clouds, but the town of Tehatchapi, on top of the mountain, was perfectly clear (see photo). The central valley was completely filled with low clouds — so low that I don’t think general aviation flight would be possible. It reminded me of my scud-running adventure from last spring’s Georgetown, CA to Wickenburg, AZ flight. The tops of the clouds had a odd pattern to them, like waves far out on the ocean.

I spent the flight catching up with podcasts. Listening, that is — I’ve fallen far behind recording them. I listened to NPR’s story of the day episodes stretching back into mid December. When I was finished with those, I started on Slate Magazine podcasts. I did the crossword puzzle in the airplane magazine and attempted to take some notes for a presentation I needed to do later in the day. Then we started our approach to San Francisco and the mountains along the coast poked up their slopes through the clouds below us. There was green grass on some of the southern slopes; in a month or two, all the hills would be a rich green color there. But I seldom get to the California coast in the spring, so I’m accustomed to seeing the grass when it’s all dried out, making the hills look golden in the California sun.

The plane got to the gate at 9 AM local time. I had just one bag — a small backpack that held my PowerBook, some books I planned to give away at the end of my presentation, and clothes for the overnight stay and next day — so I didn’t have to go through the baggage claim ordeal. The bag was heavy, though, and it only seemed to get heavier as I made my way from the gate to the BART station.

BART, in case you don’t know, stands for Bay Area Rapid Transit. I used to take a cab from the airport to Moscone Hall for the Macworld Show, but I’d heard that BART went from the airport into the city and figured I’d give it a try. It was a relatively pleasant trip in a train car that reminded me more of a Long Island Railroad electrified train car than a New York City Subway car. The seats had upholstery and I don’t think they were quite as clean as they should have been. That gave the car a not-so-nice smell. But it wasn’t bad and I got used to it. I listened to my iPod and looked at the window when the train was above ground. It took about 30 minutes to get to what I thought was my stop: Montgomery Street. In reality, I should have gotten out one stop earlier, at Powell.

I came up from underground, got my bearings, realized I’d erred about the train stop, and started walking. San Francisco reminds me a bit of New York in that it has that “old city” feel. Lots of old buildings, many of which are pretty tall, some narrow streets, noisy traffic, homeless people on the sidewalks. The weather was pleasant and I was soon warming up inside my jacket.

My friend Ray called on my cell phone with a lead on a helicopter job for a construction company working along the Mexican border. I stopped and took notes on a receipt, wondering if I could be fortunate enough to get the job.

Advertising ScootersIt was less than a mile to Moscone and when I got there, I found the place relatively quiet. It was just after 10 AM and most attendees had already gone into the exhibit hall. I used a free pass to go through the registration process and get a badge, then crossed the street and went into the hall. I saw some scooters pulling advertising trailers — an Apple advertising gig, I knew. (I later got a photo of the scooters parked alongside the street.) My first order of business was to dump my jacket and the heavy bag at the Peachpit Press booth. It took me a while to find it, which was quite embarrassing because I actually walked right by it twice. They said it was near the Apple booth and they weren’t kidding. It was right inside one of the doorways to the exhibit hall, adjacent to the Apple booth.

I ran into a few people I knew, including Connie Jeung-Mills, the production person who’d worked on many of my books. I chatted with her while I stuffed my belongings under a table skirt in the booth, reserving an old Adobe canvas bag and note pad to carry while I walked the floor. I couldn’t believe the number of books in the booth. Most of the titles were about graphics and Web publishing, but I also the books I’ve written for them: Tiger, QuickBooks, and the little Visual QuickProject Guides for Word and Excel.

iPod-compatible carsI walked the floor. There was a lot to see, but not nearly as much as in the “old days,” when the show took up both sides of Moscone’s hall. I’ve never seen so many iPod accessories in my life. I think one out of every ten booths was peddling something for an iPod. Talk about trying to cash in on a craze. There were even iPod-compatible cars on display (see photo).

By 2:30, I was ready for a rest. I also needed to create my presentation, which was scheduled for 4 PM. I’m a last-minute person — I always have been — so I left the hall and found a seat on one of the balconies overlooking the hall entrance. It was nice and bright and airy up there and only about half the seats were occupied. Some people chatting, some people using laptops, other people eating or reading. I was very surprised to find that my PowerBook immediately connected to a wireless network when I opened it up. I was able to surf the net and check my e-mail.

I jotted down some notes about topics I thought my audience would be interested in. Mostly “cool features” stuff taken from my soon-to-be-published Informit.com article titled “Five Funky Finder Features.” (They may change the title, so if you go looking for it online, keep that in mind.)

While I worked, a man sitting nearby began complaining about how few seats were available. Two of the four balconies were blocked off, cutting the amount of available seats in half. But that didn’t seem to matter, since there were still empty seats to be had. One woman sitting nearby made the fatal error of acknowledging him. This resulted in him continuing his complaints. Another woman finally said to him, “I’m trying to enjoy my lunch and you’re ruining it.” He kept up for another minute or so before the woman, who was eating some kind of salad out of a Tupperware container, said, “No, I really mean it. Your complaints are ruining my lunch.” He seemed to get it then and he shut up. A while later, he closed up his iBook and went away. The whole exchange had been pretty funny. I was glad the woman had spoken up, though. He’d been quite a whiner and it was good when he finally shut up.

I did my presentation and it went well. I covered it in another blog entry.

Afterward, I met with Nancy and Cliff, two of my editors, for drinks and a bite to eat before the Peachpit Party. We wound up at an ethnic restaurant about two blocks away. Don’t ask me what kind of ethnic restaurant — I really don’t know. We ordered three different tappas dishes and a round of drinks. We talked business for a while — stuff I don’t want to cover here. Cliff left to go to an Apple party. Nancy and I finished our drinks and headed over to the Peachpit party.

Peachpit PartyI saw a bunch of Peachpit authors and editors and drank exactly one vodka martini more than I should have. The problem was, I still hadn’t checked into my hotel and I wasn’t exactly sure where it was. Or what it was called. Although I didn’t feel drunk after the third martini, I knew it was time to stop so I switched to water. Good thing I did. They must have used delayed reaction vodka in those drinks because I didn’t start feeling drunk until I was halfway done with my water. Still, I never got too drunk to realize that there were lots of people worse off than I was. Kim was probably the worst. It was her last day of work for Peachpit and she was partying a bit heartier than she should have.

I dug out the info for my hotel around 11:30, realized it was only about a block away from where Tom and Dori were staying, and walked with them. The walk took us down Market Street, which was surprisingly active with normal people (and a few weirdos) at that time of night. When we went our separate ways at Fourth Street, I felt safe enough to continue that last long block on my own. But it was good to get to my hotel and check in. I think the guys at the desk suspected that I wasn’t exactly sober, but they didn’t comment. I’m sure they’ve seen worse. And I wasn’t too drunk to realize that the guy had forgotten to give back my credit card with my room key.

I stayed at the Hotel Milano on Fifth Street. It’s an old hotel that has been fixed up. My seventh floor room had two windows that looked out across a narrow ventilation shaft to the two windows of a room in the next hallway. The room was big with a small television at one end and the king-sized bed at the other. I got undressed and into bed and watched a Seinfeld rerun for a while before turning off the television and going to sleep.

The only thing I’d forgotten to do was to check and adjust the thermostat. I was cold enough all night to sleep poorly but not cold enough to get up and do something about it. I hate that.

I woke at 5:30 AM local time. (I hate that, too.) I watched some Weather Channel and started work on this bLog entry before showering, getting dressed, and going out for breakfast. I wound up at the Marriott a few blocks away. I had a nice breakfast from the buffet, then walked back to my hotel and wasted more time on my computer. The show didn’t open until 10 AM and there was no reason to rush.

I packed and checked out at 9:30 AM. My bag was heavy, despite the fact that I’d given away the five books I’d brought with me from Arizona and I hadn’t bought anything else. I did have some product literature on board, but not enough to take the weight of five books.

At Moscone, I took a seat on one of the balconies to check my e-mail and my Web sites. The sites had been down the day before because of a computer glitch, but they were back online that morning. At 10 AM, I was back on the show floor, stashing my bag under a table at the Peachpit booth.

I bought a SightFlex stand for my iSight camera. Heavy.

I called America West and asked about an earlier flight. It was fully booked.

The Apple BoothI bothered an Apple booth guy for a demo of iWeb. It’s a cool little software package and I hope Peachpit lets me write a book about it. The guy who gave the demo was a software engineer and had written Pages, Apple’s word processing program. (I don’t know why they didn’t have him demo that.) I told him I used Word and had been using it for years. He told me that if I tried Pages, I’d switch. So I’ll try it again next week and see how I do with it. Word really is overkill sometimes. But, at the same time, I’m not too thrilled with the idea of software that works more like a page layout program than a word processor without giving you the control over page elements. If I recall, that was my main gripe about Pages.

The Apple BoothThe Apple Booth, by the way, was enormous. I think it gets bigger every year. There’s always a huge theater area (see photo) and this year there were 40-foot high “posters” of the new MacBook Pro (terrible name!) laptop and Intel processor iMac. I felt like a Lilliputian as I walked around the booth.

I wandered around the hall some more, killing time.

I ran into Sandee Cohen, Ted Landau, and Tonya Engst at the Peachpit booth and spent some time chatting with each of them. Then I grabbed my bag and made my exit. It was 11:30. I figured I’d stop by the Apple store before grabbing a bite to eat.

I dropped off my bag at a hotel along the way, checking it with a bellman. It felt good to get that damn thing off my back.

After looking around the Apple Store, I spent about an hour in Cody’s, a very nice bookstore near Market Street, not far from Virgin and the Apple Store. They were expecting President Carter as a speaker later in the day and the audience seats were already starting to fill with people who had nothing better to do with their time than spend the day sitting in a folding chair in the basement of a building, surrounded by books.

I walked up to Union Square, passing a handful of panhandlers and more than a handful of tourists. The cable car runs down Powell Street there and there are always a lot of tourists around. The area itself reminds me of lower Broadway in New York, with lots of discount luggage stores and shops that sell t-shirts and other tourist favorites. Kind of sleezy without being sleezy enough to scare people away.

Then I made my way to the Nikko, thinking about sushi for lunch. I was just about to go into the Japanese restaurant there when I noticed a Chinese dim sum restaurant across the street. I went there instead and had a very good lunch.

By that time, I’d had enough of San Francisco and was ready to head out to the airport. You know, I’ve been to San Francisco dozens of times and, unless you have a lot of time on your hands and comfortable walking shoes on your feet, it isn’t such a great place. I had neither and was more interested in finding a comfortable place to wait for my flight home than shopping or even walking around the city.

I retrieved my bag, gave the bellman a tip, and descended into the BART station. A while later, I was on a train bound for Daly City. I changed trains and got on another one for the airport. I listened to podcasts the entire time: Slate magazine and, when I was finished with those, Slate Explainer. The usual at the airport: get a boarding pass, go through security, find the gate, settle into a seat. I found a seat by an electric outlet and used it to charge up my PowerBook. For some reason, I expected to use it on the plane.

The plane was completely booked. Overbooked, in fact. They offered $400 worth of travel for volunteers, but I wasn’t interested. There was a woman in my seat when I boarded and, since it was my seat and not hers, she gave it up. When all the seats were filled, they closed the doors and we got underway.

I was asleep within ten minutes of departure.