Taking Flight Again


Spent last night with a friend from Fluor’s SF office, where I had worked for a month.  Eight minutes from her driveway to the airport terminal!

Last night watched her son’s twenty-something friends set off illegal fireworks in their cul-de-sac.  Many duds.  Not like the spectacular ones we bought in Mississippi (legally) during my FEMA stint there.

The Delta terminal is not architecturally notable, but there’s a giant Deborah Butterfield inside.  (Wish I’d plugged in my camera last night.  This photo is from the Web.)

Just a few interesting costumes in the terminal.  A heavy-set older man in shorts and a cowboy hat.  A monk in saffron with a heavier maroon wrap.  A Sikh with a white turban and a white beard down to his waist.  A couple pulling kids in car seats turned into strollers.  Backpacks on everyone, from a 10-year-old geeky boy with ears that stuck out to an 85-year-old woman.  A man my age sitting on the low heater by the window yelling at a coworker (underling?) on his cellphone.  More Asians that you’d see in Arizona.  Mostly thin people (because it’s the west coast?)  But still sloppy; it’s an American thing.

In the flight magazine…

Bonnie’s father has five daughters but has no sons.  Four of the daughters are named Chacha, Cheche, Chichi, and Chocho.  What is the fifth’s daughter’s name?


Vancouver is cool and lovely.  Luckily not too cold as I only brought one sweater.  I’ll be reporting on my sightseeing.

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One Response to “Taking Flight Again”

  1. Rhonda R. Fleming Says:

    Chuchu is the final daughter’s name. By the way, what were you wearing at the airport?

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