We’re home, six hours and two minutes after we left the hotel. Just fifteen minutes to drive to the airport, a few more to turn the car in, another twenty or thirty to get through the TSA screening. At the gate two hours early, then we get delayed forty minutes. Then another thirty.
It’s now over 4:30 since we left the hotel. We have 47-minute flight from San Jose to Burbank. Barely enough time to get a half-filled cup of Diet Coke and one of those tiny bags of peanuts. (I passed on the peanuts.) Crammed into middle and aisle seats like sardines.
Another ten or fifteen minutes to taxi and get to the point where we can get off the plane. Twenty minutes to watch the bags come down the chute, five minutes to go chase down our when our bag isn’t there. (It had come down on an earlier flight somehow.) Fifteen minutes to get the shuttle bus and go over to the offsite parking lot, forty minutes to drive home.
Meanwhile, Google Maps tells me that it’s 341 miles from our door to the hotel door, which we could do in 5:10 if we go up I-5, assuming the Grapevine’s open and not closed due to snow. If we go up the coastal route instead, it would take about six hours.
Cost to fly was about the same as driving, assuming fifty cents a mile for driving costs. But the seats would have been oh so much more comfortable.