Flew back to PoCo today and while I tried to check in online the day before, Alaska's website said No.
So, I had to check in at the counter, which was OK, as I thought that might prevent me from forgetting to check my bulging 75lb duffel bag. No way would that thing sneak through security.
I hefted my bag onto the scale and the nice agent read the result - 64lbs. I left a couple of pairs of shoes and some clothes in Alameda, but not enough... 14lbs overweight.
She told me, "It's overweight, do you have something to put it in?"
"Put it in?" I answered? My stupidity? The tequila? "Put WHAT in?"
"The extra 14lbs - do you have something you can put it in?"
I'm thinking, Like what? Do you see an empty bag materializing before our eyes?
I told her no, I knew the bag was overweight and I would just have to pay the overage fee. $50. Yikes! But, hey, I got away with it on the way down, so it seemed like a fair deal.
On the first plane I had the pleasure of sitting next to a very loud little boy and his louder younger brother. Thankfully, I had the forethought to recharge my iPod the night before. These kids were born without the Inside Voice Gene and their mother was born with poor hearing. Such a pleasure.
A few rows up from me a guy about my dad's age settled into his seat with a fresh copy of the National Enquirer. By the end of the flight, he seemed to be all caught up on Miley Cyrus and the stars of Twilight.
Just before our scheduled departure, two actual A-Holes boarded the flight with large carry ons and complained loudly to each other that they'd have to move some things around [in the overhead bins].
The second flight was uneventful, though tiny prop jets always make me nervous. It just looks like at any moment, it might stop spinning, and down we'll go like a hot rock. I did another crossword and hoped for the best.
Of course, I returned to grey skies and rain. Very funny. It was sunny and warmer in Canada than in Alameda while I was gone. Canada is kind of a bitch.