Now let me welcome everybody to the wild, wild west.
Seriously, though, after a rather grueling flight that seemed to never end we rolled in to SF at about 12amPDT, so 3 for me and my body. I think I'm getting sick, but I can never tell with the dry, recirculated air on planes.
On the plane there was a guy from Boston that had three children, none of whom was over the age of four. He was wrangling them, carrying them in car seats down the aisle, cleaning up their urp. It was spectacular. I was having a horrible flight, but after watching him go about all of that without freaking out I felt rather sheepish complaining.
In other news, this hotel has wireless internet, and I am a nerd.