Korea
Japan
Hong Kong
But there are so many other places I may wind up... (hopefully not jail or dead).
I am using this space as a blog, and as a way to dump the dailies I take from my camera (Panasonic GH1 and Samsung TL320). I want those who are interested to get a daily-updated, unfiltered view of my crazy Asian adventure.
The Departure
Slept less than 3h. David said he only got 4, I felt sorry for him, he had to drive. Saw a Pontiac Aztek on the drive to SFO with the most appropriate license plate EVER. Look:
YES.
We arrived at SFO like over two hours early. I was playing with my stabilizer and a guy approached me and talked about it with me for a while. Because we had so much extra time, our families decided to chill with us in the airport lobby and we ate lunch. For some reason we didn’t really keep track of time, and all of a sudden it was 28 minutes before the terminal closes, and the plane flies away. Wait WHAT?! We hadn’t even gone through security yet, and the line was HUGE! Here’s the breakdown:
Takeoff time: 1:45p, doors close at 1:35
1:07 - realize we only have 28 minutes before the doors close, and still need to get through security.
1:08 - run to the security checkpoint, witness massive line, shit ourselves, get in line.
1:09 - about to cross the checkpoint where visitors couldn’t go, realize David’s mom is still in the bathroom.
1:09-1:11 - panic. Panic, panic, panic! Where the hell is she?! The line is so huge!Are we going to make it?! Holy shit so many months of planning about to be flushed down the toilet!!
1:11:30 - Made the call. We were out of time, decided to jump in line and say goodbye over the phone when we boarded.
1:11:45 - crossed the checkpoint, David’s mom showed up out of nowhere. Everyone hugged through the ropes, and the nervous waiting began. Would we make it? Could we? I recalled to David what I witnessed in a New York terminal. A man was late for his flight, 20 minutes before takeoff. He asked a security personnel if he could cut to the front of the line, and they straight up turned him down. That guy definitely missed his flight, but I’ll be damned if we miss this one.
1:12-1:22 - Waiting in line. Moving slowly. No fuckin way we’d make it.
1:27 - made it to the checkpoint where they check your passport and boarding pass. I politely told the lady our situation, and asked if we’d make it. She sort-of said yes.
1:27-1:30 - holyshitholyshitholyshit we’re not gonna make it!!! More panic. I start nervously talking out loud, just enough to let the security lady know how screwed we are. She radioed something in.
1:31 - A security guard comes running up to us, tells us to go to the front of the checkpoint line.
1:32 - The x-ray operators yell at us that we’ve only got 1 shot to make it through, and to make the flight. We had to be sure all metal was removed, because if they had to perform a bag inspection, we’d miss the flight. David and I were panicking trying to get all our shit out and into those gray bins. I go first through the metal detector, not sure where any of my stuff is. The staff are yelling at us to hurry up. I grab my gear, while I see David setting off the metal detector for some reason. I think we’re fucked. He thinks we’re fucked. Everyone was telling us how fucked we were. I couldn’t find my passport, where was my passport?! The lady grabbed me to sprint for the gate, but I couldn’t go anywhere without my passport. David made it through the metal detector. All the bins came out, but I didn’t have my passport. WHERE THE HELL WAS IT!!? I started yelling frantically at David. Maybe it was still in the machine? Maybe someone took it? It was in a small leather pouch, it couldn’t have gone far?! Just then, David, too, couldn’t find his small leather pouch with his passport. We both started panicking, with everyone yelling at us to hurry up. “The gate will close in 3 minutes!” they all screamed, “You have to hurry!” All of a sudden David realized he had mistakenly grabbed my leather pouch from the bin, just as I found his. No time to check, just had to run for the gate. I took off first, with personnel instructing me that it was the first gate on the left, gate G91.
Now, if you’ve ever been to the San Francisco airport, and just so happened to have a departing flight from gate G91, you will know that it is not just around the corner. It is a two-minute sprint down the hallway, down some stairs, and to the left. So I ran, without glasses, unable to read the signs, hoping that the terminal I chose was the correct one.
I ran down the stairs and sprinted for the gate, expecting to just run through. They stopped me asked for my passport and boarding pass, and proceeded to scold me for being so late. “The plane boards 1:15!” one lady yelled in a broken accent. “You can’t be so rude!” screamed another. I became flush with guilt and burdened by their discipline. Where the hell was my passport?! Shit that’s right, David’s got my leather pouch. SHIT! I began to frantically search my bag, with the hope of stalling the gate crew just long enough for David to arrive with my documents. But wait!! The tiny opening from my backpack zipper revealed my stashed passport and boarding pass! I must have jammed it in their amidst all the confusion. Eureka! I showed them the ticket, the passport, and blew past the seemingly endless wall of my judges, down the hall, through the boarding tube, and onto the plane, safe and bewildered. I didn’t see David behind me throughout this whole ordeal. I wondered if he had made it? I found my seat on the plane and waited for what felt like an hour. Finally, and to my relief, his stupid Asian face appeared at the plane’s entrance. We made it…
