I have just returned from a lightning trip to California, for which I departed early Monday morning with a selfie shadow on my face.
I flew west, over the Rockies.
Over the Grand Canyon.
To Los Angeles, where I sat on the tarmac while engineers tried to evaluate and fix a small mechanical error. Two hours later, the plane finally took off, bound for San Francisco, only to turn around mid-flight and land again in Los Angeles on account of a wing-de-icing system malfunction.
This was frustrating to me.
But, eventually, we got going again. And eventually I was deposited at my hotel, a lovely little oasis full of green things and a pool too cold to swim in.
I discovered a new burrito joint.
With a motorcycle suspended from the ceiling.
When I got back, the pool was just as inviting, but the sky was getting dark. It was past midnight at home, and so I headed off to get some rest.
But not before enjoying the comforting/eerie glow of my wall-mounted fireplace.
The next morning, we headed out to visit one of the nation’s great universities, a client of my firm for several years now.
The good people of Stanford did us the honor of creating a really big version of one of our brochures.
How big? This big.
Please join me in being delighted.
Alas, the weather was dreary. We drove famous palm drive, but the expected beauty was thwarted by raindrops.
But even a gray day can’t diminish the majesty of the place.
On our way back to the airport, we spotted another venerable California institution.
Both my boss and I have always wanted to try an In-N-Out burger, of which I have long heard rave reviews from West Coast friends.
The menu is simple.
The quality is palpable.
The anticipation was delightful.
And the verdict?
The only bad thing about the In-N-Out burger was its finitude. And the limits of my appetite.
On the way home, we stopped in Salt Lake City. Here’s a glimpse of the lake’s shoreline.
I had not appreciated that the city is surrounded by mountains. I love visiting the West. It’s rugged and majestic and tinged with the spirit of adventure and entrepreneurship.
But I’m glad to be home. I belong on this old coast.
