So after a day of milling around San Jose, Harold and I made it to San Francisco International. As I write, I am watching massive planes taxi to the runway. The cafe I am at is just above the ridiculously large Air France A380… Which we have lovingly named “Chuckie” … We flew this a few times to Paris. Our British Airways 747 is no tiny slouch either. The little baby domestic flights look so pip squeaky next to these behemoths. I guess I am marveling a bit at the achievement of air travel… Harold absolutely loves watching the planes take off and land. He and I both.