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After Jacque dropped me off at the airport, it took less than 5 minutes to check my bag and get in line at the security check. That line was about 10 minutes long and uneventful (no body scan).
After changing planes in San Antonio (my first time in this city/airport) the flight to San Diego arrived a few minutes early. While walking through the terminal toward the baggage claim, it was a little unnerving to see the security line of those trying to get into the terminal was the length of the corridor, around the corner and down past the baggage claim carrousels. I was tempted to ask someone in line how long they had been waiting, and what the expected length of their wait was. It took nearly 20 minutes for bags from my flight to start showing up on the carrousel.
After retrieving my bag, I found my way to the shuttle to go pickup my rental car, then proceeded to the Best Western Yacht Harbor Hotel, where I’d be staying for the weekend. I scratched my plans to attend the Promise Keepers conference at SDSU Friday night/Saturday morning & afternoon. Instead, for Friday night entertainment I made my way out to Granite Hills High School in El Cajon, where the Christian High Patriots were taking on the Santana Sultans.
On the drive out, the first 4 or 5 miles down I-8 took about 20 or 30 minutes due to traffic – mind you it was a little after 5 PM, rush hour. My main thought was, ‘This is one reason I didn’t return to San Diego upon graduating from collage.’ Then the traffic finally broke free once we passed a car accident that blocked the two right lines – the two lanes used to exit onto a nearby highway.
This was my first CHS football game in person since the fall of ’82 – I watched last fall’s CIF final on the internet. It was a close back & forth game with CHS holding a 21-17 lead at the half, before pulling away with a 49-26 victory.
I sat a few rows behind the band until the fourth quarter when I went down and talked to the band director, Sandy Adams, for the remainder of the game. She (and her husband David) was a graduating senior my first year in marching band – my eighth grade year. We reminisced about band memories and shared some life stories before the game ended and it was time for the Alma Mater.
I then returned to my hotel for a good night’s rest (and no alarm clock in the morning)!
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