So, instead of doing 9 miles at altitude, or even 8.5 I did 7.3. But 3.1 of them were with the Little Dictator, so right there that = 6. Toss in the altitude, and I'm claiming 10!!!
Number One Daughter and I had a great weekend with Bex, but were jerked back to reality far too quickly. There really should be a re-entry, detox program for people returning from California to D.C. Honestly.
We landed at Dulles International Airport at about 5:30 a.m., ahead of schedule, and stood in line to take the bus to the parking lot that's about as far from the terminal as you can get and still be in Virginia. Like, really, really far.
When we left in the wee hours of Thanksgiving Day (last Thursday for my international readers) as NOD and I were climbing into my car (the one without a working radio) we cleverly made a last-minute tactical decision to take her car (that would be the one with the working radio) instead of mine (that would be the one without the working radio). We decided this in the parking lot. NOD's keys were upstairs in her room, but I had an extra set to her car, so all was good. (Yes, you know exactly where this is going...)
All was good right up until we de-boarded the bus to the extremely far away parking lot (if you de-plane, why can't you de-board???), wandered around looking for the car for a few minutes, found the car, unlocked it, threw our bags in and ...(The ClubTM is a really, really, REALLY, good anti-theft device. Like ridiculously good.)
Not until we were in the car did we look at each other and say, "Oh, $@!!." That's when we realized that the key to the the Club was safely at home in NOD's room, nestled cozily amongst her other keys.
But no problem! It's for situations exactly like this that I pay my yearly fee to AAA. We called and they sent a locksmith after about a 40-minute wait. He pulled out his handy lock picks.
(On sale now for that special someone.)
I watched, fascinated, because this is the part that is REALLY EASY IN ALL THE DETECTIVE NOVELS. He tried this, he tried that. He picked this way, he picked that way. And then? He gave up. He said the only thing to do was saw it off, but also said 1) he didn't have a saw, and 2) that could lead to the airbag deploying.
There was nothing for it but to re-board the bus, go back to the terminal, get more coffee, hire a cab back to Bethesda ($65, in case you're wondering), pick up my car and NOD's key to THE CLUB, and drive back out to Dulles, back into the extremely cheap and far away parking lot, back to NOD's car, where she UNLOCKED the $#!~!@ CLUB, and after more coffee, we were on our way home.
Time from SFO to Washington Dulles airport? 5.5 hours.
And that, my friends, is how you do that.