I have no idea what went wrong with the first aircraft of the morning, just the vague statement of “mechanical failure” from the gate attendant. So much for needing to arrive ninety minutes early. The second aircraft’s problem was obvious: a gaping hole in the side of the aircraft where the baggage loader was rammed into the plane. Sigh. Somebody’s probably looking for a new job today. So now I depart at my original arrival time and get to ride at the back of the bus. Er, plane.

I could have flown out last night, but wanted to make sure I had plenty of time for the meeting I flew down here for. The same meeting I was “disinvited” to on arrival. Putting a positive spin on things, I am still getting paid to sit here, four hours and counting, at SFO.

Instead of flying out yesterday, I had lunch with Susan, put in a few more hours at work, then headed out for a stroll along the Embarcadero. I have never spent much time down there, which is a shame. Were I to find myself stuck in San Francisco and in possession of entirely too much money, I’d join the Gateway Tennis and Swimming Club, maybe spend and hour or two relaxing in the late afternoons in Strauss Park before wandering down to Fog City Diner for a Buffalo Burger, 22 ounce Pale Ale and a 15 year old single malt. Fortunately, I am neither stuck in San Francisco, nor in possession of obscene quantities of cash. Sigh again.

So what to do? A medium mocha and a chocolate chip cookie from Peets, and some aimless wandering back and forth among the gates has killed some time. Reading today’s SF Chronicle and SF Examiner, and this months National Geographic killed some more, but not enough, it seems. Perhaps it is time to reflect on my impending joblessness.

I earn a decent wage, but am not happy with what I do. The work itself is fine; it is the corporation under which I labor that I find abhorrent. I guess I have never been successfully assimilated into the collective. Two and a half weeks and it won’t matter, however. I have been told that the moment I am free will be a moment of great joy. On paper, they are not a bad company. It is the practice where the flaws shine through. Practice makes perfect, and the corp has perfected creating puppets. Orders from headquarters override all, even if contrary to common sense. It will be interesting to see if my departure leads to more.

Oh goodie. My latest flight has been delayed by 10 Alaska minutes. Considering I had an original departure time of 1:29pm on this flight and a rescheduled departure time of 1:45pm, I can only conclude that 10 Alaska Minutes equals 16 Real Minutes, which works out to a ratio of 1:1.6. This may explain why so many flights are delayed. My suggestion would be to have Alaska Airlines standardize on the time values that the rest of us use. Once again — sigh . . .