San Francisco Airport

12th January, 2008

On a pleasant day (for January) a handsome male landed on the shores of the U S of A and set the shores afire. (Ok, not sooo handsome, but close). (And that sounds like Hanuman in Lanka so I take back my opening line.)

Jet-lagged male clutches passport, visa page open, I-94 filled in, ready to face the visa officer, the customs officer and any other mutants in the way.

“Why do you want to enter the United States?”

Since I already cleared the visa interview this seemed to be an overkill. And yes, I had answered NO to the “Are you a terrorist?” question. (What happens to people who check YES there….?)

So finally he was wooed by the looks of me, and seemed convinced that I was a bon-a-fide business traveller, and hence he allowed me to pass. Ditto customs. Ditto security. Past the luggage belt and right into the pleasant day I was talking about.

Big airport. Small man. Armed with instructions.

Caught the super shuttle to Pleasanton.

Here are some of the sights of a country of bounty: