My ID: 26 December 1986 into San Francisco International
United Airlines (flight number unknown)
My Initial Descent into the West Coast came on a post-Christmas family vacation at the tender age of 7. We flew to San Francisco—my first long plane ride—and my first several hours on the West Coast were spent trying to make my ears un-pop from the airplane. I tried holding my breath, sneezing, chewing gum…nothing seemed to work.
Within a few hours, I had seen my first palm tree and my first sunset over a body of water. A few days later, we drove down the coast, and it was really the most beautiful site I had ever seen. Well, the train track that hugged the Pacific coastline, anyway. See, at that time I was fascinated by trains, planes, and little else. My only other recollection of that trip was that I apparently, according to the family albums, got in trouble in Knott’s Berry Farm for kicking Snoopy in the ass.
As far as cultural differences, well, it’s difficult to really evaluate that when you’re 7. Fortunately, I would have many other times to get back and learn about everything we plan to share with you in this space as we move forward.