Back to the time when I boarded the bus....

Back to the time when I boarded the bus in Taiwan, although I’ve traveled 14 hours already, the time seems to be freezing still.  I am about to relive the day again.  It is June 13, 2001, 9:30am, San Francisco time.  Not quite yet in the heart of San Francisco, but very close, very very close.  I can see my patience slowly drifting away as I stood in the line behind not one, not two, but THREE students who’ve decided to come to the states to satisfy their educational needs.  (I know I should not be this edgy, for I was one of them.  Should give them some sympathy, but hating myself secretly for picking the wrong lane.)  Each of them took at least 10 minutes in front of the immigration officer; or, the immigration officer took at least 10 minutes with each of them should be a better description.  I begin to realize that I am about to be the last one of the batch to leave the “gray” area; where you are physically in the country, but not actually yet. 

Patience leaving leaving…..  oops, come back, I need that with me so I wouldn’t make a fool out of myself when I take my turn with the officer.  Don’t want him to have any funny idea about what to do with me, like sending me away.  No way, just got here, not ready to spend another 12 hours in a confined space.  The movies are awful and I will die from the Economy Class Syndrome disease. 

So I secretly summoned my patience back, eased my growing temper, worked on my line:

“What’s the purpose of the trip?”  Said the Officer.

“Oh, just chilling.”

“Why do you have so many days for vacation?”  Asked as if this is his business.

“Well, I can take how many days I want if I wanted and whenever I wanted.”  I spelled it out for his sake.  Yeah, tell him.

“How come you’ve got this open ticket for your return trip?” 

He said it in a tone that hurt me, as if accusing me, a single woman, who’s come here to married off with the first man I see.

“Well, guess again, buddy!  I don’t care about coming here at all.  I just want to get away from the hot weather in my country, and who knows how long the summer would be, that’s why to open ticket.  Now, would that be a crime?  Well, I just want to come back for a visit.”

Then immediately I was send to the next office, hand-cuffed…. 

“Next!”  Yelled out the officer, I regained my conscious and knew that I will not make the same mistake again.. 

TWO minutes.  The guy only took 120 seconds with me.  I think the only concern that he had was that I only have couple of hundreds with me for this 30-day trip.  After he asked my credit limit, he is now more comfortable to let me get into San Francisco, knowing that I won’t sell my body or my soul for food.  He let me go. 

After I got my bag, which didn’t take more than a second because it’s the last one standing.  I headed for the door.

Again, they stopped me at the custom, asked me if I have any food.  Flatly out loud, “NO.”  They still didn’t give up, asked me, “not even the food from the plane?”

Give me a break, please!!! 

Of course, I just said, “No.”

Found my neighbor waiting for me at the exit. 

This neighbor of mine, got the aisle seat next to me.  After the slowing recovering from the trauma of no more seats available than the middle seats, the fact that the check in guy kindly lay it out for me.  I was thrilled as the airplane door shut close, the guy was actually nothing but full of lies because there was only air sitting in the seat next to me.  After I comfortably seated myself in the window seat, with my both feel stretched out, invading the non-seater, I begin to take full advantage of this unexpected luxury.  And yet, no more than 3 seconds later, I realized one important thing and got depressed again. 

You see, I have this unspeakable water-drinking problem.  My constant urge to fly, enrolled me to the frequent flyer program; and this water-drinking problem, enrolled me to the frequent toilet-visiting program, in which I am the sole proud member.  I’ve caused many frequent stoppages at the gas stations, I’ve caused our trips being delayed, trains missed, and now I am about to trouble the guy every time I go.  Well, being a lady with so much grace, never want to impose problems on anybody, I guess I’ll have to cut down on my water-drinking habit.  

Anyway, the nice surprise of getting empty seat next to me just proved that the invisible power is looking after me once again.  I thought I’ve used up all my luck of the week when yesterday, I found parking places everywhere I went.  Imagine, free parking places in Taipei.  I have once sworn that I will never buy a car because of the parking space limitation, but I believe yesterday’s experience gave me a second thought. 

Only, my trip to the restroom has remained an issue.  The only best way for me to go is when he goes, but again, there wasn’t any cure for my water-drinking problem, and obviously he hasn’t got one.  So it’s all up to my flexibility and his forgiveness to allow me leap up, and climb over the seat next to me, step on his armrest and make a safe landing on the aisle.

Believe me, this is how the lady sitting in the seat 32A, i.e. me, did during the entire trip whenever she needed to go.

Thanks for my sporting outfit and slippers.  Couldn’t ever do it with a skirt.  And my cousin was criticizing my out fit of the day as unfit for the “air-day”. 

Being a frequent flyer,  I’ve learned long ago to be in ragged clothes on the flight is the one and only rule.  There’s no class distinction on the flights.  The class has already been determined when you book the seat:  first, business, and economy. Period.  Nothing else will make them serve you differently. 

So my good neighbor has offered me many help.  Including the direction to SFO city via bus, via BART, the luggage disposal, the good pizza place, where to take cable car, all the way towards the telephone tips. 

“Don’t call your friend until you get into Fremont because it would be cheaper.”

And water,

“There is a bottle of unopened water, it costs a fortune if you want to get it at the resort areas.  This only cost 35 cents, we got it at the local market.”

Hell, he even offered me their house as my luggage storage area.

Where can you find a good person like this, one can only meet probably once in one’s in a lifetime. 

As I met his family, the wife, the parents, all showed up to picked him up, and I know where the sincerity came from.  It runs in the family.

Well, since the luggage problem has solved, the lady at the info booth called around, and asked about it for me.  I decided to keep my luggage with me, to keep me from guessing, and also keep me from owing people favors.  I bid them goodbye at my station, Powell Street, in the heart of downtown San Francisco. 

And yet, the life just kept on surprising you.  THERE IS NO LUGGAGE STORAGE AREA HERE, OR ANYWHERE IN SAN FRANCISCO, is the one and only answer I got.  But the info man gave me a suggestion, telling me to use my charm and maybe, MAYBE, the hotel bellboy will be kindly enough to store my luggage for me.  So I did, be as humble as I may be, and tell a story of a poor girl who came to find her relative, only realize that her dream has shattered due to the unexpected misfortune, blah blah blah…  Yeah, right.  Anyway, the hotel bellboy without using a second, cut off my begging, took the luggage for me.  I left the hotel thinking what a wonderful world this is. 

The walk through the streets of San Francisco was a treat for me.  I’ve been to most of the places already, but this is the first time, come here alone, and on foot, and with 20 pounds on my back and shoulder.  Yes, heavy stuff again.

I was planning on taking the cable car, sending me directly to the fisherman’s wharf, what I’ve dreamed to see lately.  However, the long line in front of the Powell Station just drew me off.  Have no patience for this standing and waiting, so I set forth on my bus no. 11, heading for the ocean share. 

The walk was nice, although a bit heavy.  I passed by Lombard street, in distance, saw the famous winding road, passed by a section of China town, and finally arrive at the Pier 39.  Nothing is really different this time around.  My last visit here was about 4 years ago, however, now I noticed a big difference.  It’s the popularity of the cell phones.  I see everybody with the cell phone.  Taking care of business while enjoying sunshine, arranging people to meet here and there, or simply chatting. 

Of course, the visit to San Francisco isn’t complete if the Ghiradelli Square left unvisited.  I suppose it was because of it’s the chocolate history that kept my heart in the brick buildings.  This time, an added bonus, musician playing soothing tune with various wind instruments.  I sat in the first bench I found, letting the music brush over me, under the Ghiradelli Sun.  After a nap up on the balcony, yes, still the inevitable time difference, I started my journey back to downtown. 

After a short tour to Lambard Street, I arrive in downtown.  Collect rest of my belongings, and left with full contentment.  Hence, what has ended is my first day, what has begun is my trip back to the states.