November 1, 2023, Banning (CA)- Momentarily forgetting that I had checked my Cotopaxi backpack, through from LAX to San Diego, I went back in and asked an agent about the process for finding misplaced items. Her generic answer, and showing me where to head, in order to locate it, gave enough space for my reality to set in. The bag was actually in good hands, and I could head to the domestic TSA inspection, then to the last leg of my return flight.

I got a decent amount of sleep last night, but “last night” in the Philippines ended at 5 a.m., this morning, when it was 8 p.m., Tuesday night, in California. So, by the time I landed in San Diego, it was 5:30 p.m. here and 8:30 a.m., Thursday morning, in Manila. By the time I had caught the shuttle to long-term parking, retrieved Sportage and driven here, to Sunset Motel, it was 8:15 here-and…you get the picture.

I had a nice breakfast at Cherry Selections, in the lobby of Manila Airport Hotel, then bid farewell to my friends in Airlane Village and walked over to Terminal 1-again gently guided by a series of gatekeepers, to the proper queue and the China Air block of service booths. Philippine TSA provides a quick inspection, so that part took only three minutes or so.

Once on board, it was my turn to take one of the middle seats-only fair, as the flight over was spent in aisle seats only. Everyone has to take an aisle seat, or two, once in a while. The seats on China Air vessels are roomy and ergonomically sound, which is not the case with some North American carriers. We were served a late breakfast, which in my case served as lunch. Arriving in T’aipei, we had to undergo Taiwan TSA inspection, before boarding the trans-Pacific leg of the jaunt. There was then a three-hour wait, as the plane had technical issues, that were addressed in orderly fashion.

One of you asked about changes in air , with those on either side of me. I found the Taiwanese seatmates on the first leg, quiet and pensive. They also spoke little English. The American man, to my left, on the longer flight, was aloof and wary; the Brazilian gentleman to my right was exhausted, but cordial. I was just grateful for the leg room, and the service. Truth be known, I probably would have faded out, on chattier seatmates. All told, five or six hours of sleep transpired on the three legs-with the short hop from LA to San Diego actually finding me in the deepest sleep-albeit a thirty-five minute cat nap.

Gaffes were few, and no one-except you, the readers, are aware of my brain fart, concerning the checked-in backpack. There was a bit of comedy-as I tried to open a cosmetic bin door, which had no latch, and the officious lead flight attendant rolled her eyes and told me to look to the overhead bin on my left. Thus did this groggy one leave the T’aipei-LA plane and make his way to the immigration queue.

Once re-united with the backpack, in San Diego, it took fifteen minutes for the shuttle driver from Fox Auto Parks to arrive, and ten minutes for him to get five of us to our waiting vehicles. Reunited with Sportage, I drove up to Escondido for gas, and coffee, then over to this pleasant little high desert city, and the clean, comfortable Sunset Motel. It’s been twenty-five hours, or so it seems. G’night, all!