There was a piece on the radio yesterday bewailing the sorry state of air travel. Our first calamity today was that the trekking poles we packed in Judy’s carryon didn’t make it through security. I had to go back, check her bag and do TSA all over again. 

I had passed through TSA the first time with no problem but flunked on my return. They had me do the hands-over-head machine which clearly showed my belt buckle. The agent said he’d need to do a physical exam and offered a private screening room for the procedure. I declined. He then gave me a pat down that would do a proctologist and a urologist proud, if you get my drift. 

Then, to top it off, the passes Jeff provided us for the Delta Skymiles lounge didn’t cover Esme. Costs us $50 to settle into the lap of luxury. 

Travel is, indeed, a real pain these days.

The flight, delayed slightly, arrived on time after a smooth seven-hour ride. The checked bag arrived safely, albeit the last one off the conveyer belt. We opted for a taxi because it was a shorter walk than the Uber area. Big mistake. The ride was more than twice the price guaranteed by Uber. Slow traffic on the Embarcadero was the problem.

But we arrived with plenty of time to check into the Hotel Riu Plaza Fisherman’s Wharf (a former Sheraton). Nice hotel and a 15-minute walk from Pier 33. That’s where we boarded the boat to Alcatraz.

First, however, we were all getting a bit peckish from hunger so we hit the grab-‘n-go facility in the hotel for sandwiches and pizza.

Alcatraz is something you need to experience to appreciate. Judy and I had been to the Rock two years ago. What made it fun this time was to see Alcatraz through Esme’s reaction as a first-time visitor and maybe as someone who is seriously contemplating “bad guys” for the first time.

The cell block audio tour, coupled with the stark reality of the cold, bare-bones cells brings the place to life. It’s a testament to society’s attempt to corral hardened criminals. It brings home the reality that there are some really bad people in the world. And it brings home the reality that many of the Alcatraz inmates are seriously disturbed people, through mental disease, maltreatment as youth or both.

By 6 PM we were all fading. Plans for a pasta feed at Pier 39 fell by the wayside. At the risk of exposing us as derelict grandparents, I must report that dinner consisted of a pretzel for Esme, Corn dogs to her guardians followed by two shared churros, all purchased from a kiosk on the Embarcadero.

There never was any doubt in our minds but we resolved one question for sure today. Esme is an excellent traveling companion. She’s pleasant, fun to be with, holds up well when tired and only complains when there’s something worth complaining about. Esme’s a keeper. But we knew that all along.