Although I'm very excited about going back to San Francisco, I'm also slightly apprehensive. It's been 14 years since I was here so I'm worried it won't live up to the fantasy. I recently listened to a Ricky Jervais podcast where Karl Pilkington says going back to a place you loved is always disappointing. Karl's words worry me.
My journey from Mexico City starts with a hitch. Apart from still having 26 kilos of luggage the check-in man at the airport insists I provide the postcode of my hotel in San Francisco. When I say I have no idea what it is he points to a woman in blue and says she can help me. Slightly stressed from this unforeseen problem I turn to go but catch my foot in my backpack and go flying across the polished floor. Now there are faces of concern. The check-in man rushes out, asks if I'm ok and produces a handful of cards.
'Make a five-digit number up' he says. 'Look, everyone does it'.
Well that's great but why didn't he tell me this before I nearly broke my neck?
I'm also worried as to how I'll cope in the 'civilised' world after eight months 'out in the sticks' as my mother would say.
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