general photos

I Went to the Airport for a Run

Actually, I went to the airport to fly to Minneapolis, but some sort of faulty hydraulics in Fresno made me late to SFO. My connecting flight was in International(!), all the way across the airport from where I landed, so I ran. In fact, my technology tells me I ran 0.71mi in roughly 5m. With a bag in human traffic, that’s not bad. I arrived at the gate breathing heavy and sweating. Plane—still there. Terminal umbilical thingy—still there. Door—locked. I was 100ft away but it might as well have been 30,000ft. I was sad. So I took a picture of the plane that left me.

The Plane I Couldn't Get On
(And that’s not a filter—it’s that shade-making-window-coating stuff. Kinda cool, huh?)

I went to the United desk to get on the next flight and the agent told me I should have allowed more time. I almost threw a man-tantrum right there. “So you’re saying this is my fault?!” I wanted to go on saying things I would regret…but I kept my mouth shut and pulled over to take some deep breaths. I had 5 hours until my next flight. I opened my eyes and looked around.

The first thing I saw reminded me I was seeing a world my kids don’t get to see (at least not today). I began taking photos. For them, for me, for you…

Hermes Birds

…and Hermes kind of had it going on…


…and then there was this amazing NFL exhibit and I hoped this sweet little ride hadn’t seen the last of its glory days…

Sweet Little Ride

…then I had lunch.

A picture of this would not be pleasing.

Then, Tanya texted me—who was on the plane I missed—and said they were back on the ground and maybe I could catch it (again). So I ran. Back to International. With a bag, dodging human traffic. Another record—more breathing, more sweat. Gate agent didn’t know where the plane was. “Oh, it’s at gate 67,” she said. Gate 67 is not in International.

So I ran.

This time when I arrived at the gate, the umbilical thingy was already detached from the plane and I knew. “I don’t know why she sent you running here,” the gate agent said. “There’s no way you could have made it.” Thanks buddy. I got that already.

I was sad. I did not take a picture of the plane again. It looked the same: 30,000ft away.

So I walked…

…and I looked up and saw beautiful art…

Beautiful Art

…and I sat down and read poetry…


…and I walked some more and saw more art, this time realistic paintings of adventures past and potential…


…and there were giant models, suspended from the ceiling 50ft in the air, as if a giant little girl had snuck into the exhibit hall and hung her little planes to recreate a WWI-era dog fight…

Giant Boy's Models

…and that giant girl’s friend was more into WWII planes, so he set his up across the way…

Giant Boy's Friend's WWII Planes

…and then I worked for several hours.

A picture of this would be boring.

And then

…I was finally flying, not running…