Flight to SFO

When we used to live in France, I used to think that the annual flights to the states were hell. I might have even cursed people who traveled with children. I can, however assure you that no matter how bad it gets for you, it is *much*, *much* worse to be actually traveling *with* the kids. Neither of them slept for more than thirty minutes, and Chloe and I were complete wrecks by the time we arrived at SFO. My mom reserved comment on our sallow and weary faces, but I could see from her eyes that we were in bad shape. Even so, I was very excited to go through those last doors that usher you into the glorious Bay Area. Of course, as soon as we got out of the airport, we were mired in a traffic jam. Chloe and I decided that the first priority had to be a taco run, so we stopped by Picante on the way home.

On our flight from LYS to Zurich, a guy sat down next to me with a very high end Bell cycling helmet, so I started talked to him about cycling. It turned out that he was a pro rider for a major continental team based in Holland! He had ridden the Tour de France last year, so it was exceptionally interesting talking to him. Indeed, I passed a very enjoyable hour and a half talking to him about cycling and the iPad, while taking care of Zoe, who was exceptionally good for the entire flight. I was at this point blissfully unaware of what the twelve hour flight to SFO would be like.