I kept this one a secret, because I wanted it to be a surprise.
But I am back.
I have returned to Orange County, from whence I came. My aunt, who lived in Orange, passed away and I have come for her memorial service to pay my respects. I've known I was coming for a little bit over a week, and have basically been complaining about it for an entire week.
DAY 1 - WEDNESDAY
Every time I fly, I'm struck with the same questions:
- Why don't airlines board people from back to front?
- Why do people crowd around the gate to be the first ones on, if they don't have any carry on items to stow?
I don't understand.
Unlike everybody else, I waited until my group was called, and then waited for the line to get as short as possible before I got up and was the last person boarding on my group. I had nothing to stow. And I still got to my seat before the middle and aisle person.
I also decided to play a game. I call it: San Francisco/Orange County/Just Visiting? It's actually a pretty horrible game to play, but it entertained me. I decided the lady behind me, who hit my bag and feet 7 times while boarding, was from Orange County.
As we approached OC, I peered out the window and saw the planned houses and...started to have a mild panic attack. I vacillated between anxiety and nausea.
Since Enterprise wouldn't pick me up from the airport (because another Enterprise is there...but they were out of rental cars), and Lyft couldn't go into the airport, I ended up taking a taxi. As I was being driven, I had a momentary thought of, "Did I ever leave? Was San Francisco just some vivid hallucination??" I closed my eyes and tried to remember my bus stop and my office.
Yes, I realize I'm being over dramatic.
No, Orange County isn't that horrible of a place.
But it was unkind to me despite my kindness to it, and therefore has become vilified in my mind.