San Francisco, CA
Miles: 11437Reunited and it feels so . . .
Ceridwen spent far too long in the Bucharest Airport. She tried to keep herself occupied but ended up asleep and drooling on herself in a chair by her gate. After several long hours flying from Romania to Germany to California, amplified by the time zones changing in the wrong direction, Ceridwen landed in San Francisco International. Shortly after landing, the sun mercifully set. Thank god. The sun had been up for 20 freaking hours for Ceridwen, and it was beginning to make her feel a little ancy. On the plane, Ceridwen catalogued all the things she had missed. Dogs who are owned and pampered to the point of ridiculousness, the fact that the only place you ever hear a cockerel crow is in a corn flakes commercial and a population of people who have the same kind of neurotic distaste for waiting. Since she had sweet talked the Lufthansa clerk in Romania to let her check her bag 6 hours before her flight, it was the last one off. The crowd in the welcome hall was very relieved to see that Keath did, indeed, finally find his wife. All is well.
Back in to downtown SanFran, we moved in to our one night recover-from-eastern-Europe accommodations: the Palomar. It's a classy joint just upstairs from the Old Navy. More importantly, it's the only place in San Francisco with hot tubs in rooms that don't have names like "Presidential Suite" and "If You Have to Ask it's Out of Your Range." Much to our disappointment, it is also the only Klimpton hotel that doesn't have a complimentary cocktail hour. Poo.
Ceridwen relaxed, slept, and bathed a lot. And that was the day! She felt very hedonistic wrapped in her plush robe and napping on the pillow top bed.