Without any real means of distraction, the flight from Houston was a nightmare of tedium and antici... pation. I was by this point stone sober again and there was no amusement to be had. I had powered off my phone, so that upon arrival I could communicated with my beloved fiancee and my friend who would meet us there as Elisabeth's phone had developed some sort of allergy to electricity and, thus, refused to remain charged.
The hours crawled by on hands and knees, as if each minute were locked in a heated contest with the last to see which could be the slowest goddamned minute in existence. It wore on me, and the fact that I'd downed three caffeine laden complementary sodas in the past hour or so likely exacerbated the issue considerably.
After far too long, though, the captain's voice filled the cabin. "Please stow your trays in the upright position, we're now on approach to SFO, San Francisco International." I couldn't listen to the rest, excited as I was. In clear defiance of FAA protocol, I took out my phone and once we were within service altitude, texted her that we were almost on the tarmac. I wish I had waited some time, though, as disembarkment took forever.
Once Elisabeth and I were in the loading ramp, we immediately proceeded to the tram. The tram journey left my knuckles white and my palms sweaty. If I could feel my knees as we navigated the kafkhaesque labyrinth of SFO, they'd have felt akin to freshly boiled spaghetti as we made our way to baggage claim. Upon arriving and claiming my bags, however, I saw them: Katie and my beloved fiancee, Weishan. The disgustingness was about to commence, and there was nothing that Elisabeth or Katie could do about it.
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