The money arrived yesterday. They did what they said, they would do. Southwest coughed up the bucks it took me to ride the dog to San Jose.
Christmas 22. The days leading up to the holidays. Southwest Airlines stranded thousands. Software glitches. The nasty weather didn't help. I had advance tickets to visit the family to usher in 2023, but I didn't want to arrive on the morning of the day and have my flight canceled. I did what I had to do. I rode the dog. Greyhound.
A flight is about 52 quick minutes. Burbank to San Jose. Just enough time to inhale a cup of Java, click to Spotify and read a couple of sordid stories from my gnarled copy of The Police Gazette, and scarf down those almost edible pretzels they toss to you from a basket that's seen better days.
Riding the bus took seven grueling hours. No worries. Some days and sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do.
A journey not for the squeamish. Saturday morning. Rain. And more rain. Up early. 430am. Metro rail to Chinatown. Breakfast at Philippe's. Walking now in the rain. Union Station. A lady with a badge, wearing a raincoat tells me to go down the back ramp and cross the street. 720am. A small crowd boards the bus. I pulled my iPhone from my jeans and flashed my QR Code. I lucked out. A window seat.
Rolling North. The 101. Hollywood Blvd. In the cloudy shadows of the Roosevelt Hotel, we pick up a few of the rainswept disenchanted. No one is smiling. But, I am. My gut tells me most of these fellow passengers weren't bumped off any flights. Overweight. Plastic bag luggage. Crying babies. Think Grapes of Wrath. My kind of people.
A stop at San Fernando. Back on the road. Heading up the grapevine. I'm following my iPhone GPS as I-5 twists and turns, heading North. A pit stop in the middle of nowhere. A burrito in a bag. Back on the bus.
Finally. San Jose. Still raining. I collapse my umbrella and crawl into our son Michael's warm car.
Hanging with family for New Year's. Christmas presents. Hugs. Movies. Breakfast waffles. Lunch from Jersey Mike's. Dinner pizza. Petting family dogs. Telling family stories.
Riding the Dog took seven hours. It was more than an awesome holiday with the family. I'd do it again. In a New York heartbeat.
But enough about me...
