"Come back from San Francisco! It can't be all that pretty when all of New York City misses you." -- The Magnetic Fields
03.08.2010
I'm trying to fit three pounds of sourdough bread, my new dress, two new books, and my coat in my suitcase along with all the stuff that actually belongs there. I gasp. I pant. I pinch and pull. I throw myself face-down on the suitcase lid. I pull some more.
Yes! Optimal atomic packing factor achieved!
I take one last walk around Union Square, grab a croissant from Boudin Bakery for the road, and end up getting to the airport obscenely early. There's a line at the security gate despite the hour, though, and as I get closer, I realize why: SFO uses full-body scanners.
I step in and lift my arms. The beam sweeps across my field of vision. I lower my arms and step out of the scanner.
Security guard quote: "Looks like you've got about sixty cents in change in your front right pocket, a twenty dollar bill in your front left, and a driver's license in the back. Show them to me and you're good to go."
As any self-respecting engineer can understand, this amazing application of technology makes me really excited and I ask her if I can look at my scan. She inclines her head towards the scan's monitor and I peek at the image. It's hairless, high-contrast, and naked, but it's undeniably me.
How cool is that?! I laugh, give an excited little hop, and turn to retrieve my bags from the conveyor belt. The cute hipster is standing three feet away, staring at me.
I wonder if he saw my full-body scan image. Never mind; don't want to think about it.
He definitely saw the conference title emblazoned across my messenger bag, though.
Two long-haired skateboard-toting teens sit next to me on the airplane. They spend the entire flight watching Real Housewives reruns.
Once again, I'm awake for five and a half hours. I read a little, listen to some music, watch Alton Brown add soy sauce to caramels and take a kitchen torch to a grapefruit. I read, edit, and rewrite two sets of notes in my Moleskine. Half of the pages detail technical information learned at the conference and half of the pages will eventually become five blog posts outlining my trip. Cute hipster is seated directly behind me, and it doesn't seem like he's able to sleep much either.
Eventually, I can see the lighted streets of the Rockaways out the plane window. A few minutes later, we touch down at JFK.
Cute hipster helps me retrieve my suitcase from the overhead compartment. I thank him and offer a sweet smile before exiting the aircraft. I know I'll regret not giving him my name or my card in the upcoming weeks, but right now, a smile seems like enough of a promise.
Do I think I'm ready to fall in love? Nope. But I'm getting there.
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