Waiting for the ticket agent so I can get my seat assignment. Oh! Nervousness!! There is a huge group of young people here, all traveling as a tour to Paris. They are dressed appropriately chic, wearing tall black boots and skirts, well done hair, and cat-eye glasses. One girl looks very art-student with bright pink skirt over jeans, with a bright green sweater, white shirt, and a matching green patch in her hair.
The BART ride over was simple and relatively fast. I got on at Lake Merritt Station, took the Daly City train, transferred at Balboa Park, and boarded the Milbrae train to SFO. All told, $5.95.
The international terminal at SFO is huge and intimidating with very high ceilings and an architectural style that makes me feel that things are moving, even when they’re not.
Definite sense of nervousness struck me at the airport. Will I be able to navigate an equally overwhelming French airport… in French? My language skills are a bit weak, but what the hell, right?
Got to show my passport for the first time. It’s amazing. Going overseas. The United ticketing agent said, “How do you go to Paris and not check bags?” At the security gate, there was a young Asian guy, obviously late for his flight, dancing around in impatient anxiety. Finally, he got through the x-ray area, put on his powder blue sneakers, belt and pocket items, and then took off running without his bag.
Ticket agents have shown up, but no seat assignments. Flight attendants have arrived, all wearing tall heels and stylish hair. I feel out of my element in ten different ways.