When I first heard that my planned 11-day trip would involve an overnight crew rest in San Diego, I was excited. San Diego is one of my favorite cities in the nation, if not the world. I have been there plenty of times over the years, and I was looking forward to a nice evening of dinner and drinks in the Gaslamp Quarter and a restful evening at a downtown hotel before our direct flight to Germany the next day.
Our departure out of our Seattle-area airbase was uneventful, despite some light icing encountered during our nighttime climb to our cruising altitude. Two and a half hours later, we landed at the North Island Naval Base, across the bay from downtown San Diego. While the loadmasters began loading the cargo for the next day's flight, the pilots went to base operations to figure out where we'd stay for the evening.
I started calling area hotels, but it was soon obvious that there was no room at the inn for us downtown; every hotel near the Gaslamp Quarter was booked. Realizing that we'd miss a nice evening downtown, we looked into staying on the navy base. However, it appeared that they were full as well, at least initially. They eventually offered us three rooms for the six members of my crew - meaning we'd have to share a double bed. We took a stand, and they soon found enough rooms for all of us - in a nearly empty building.
As I walked to my room, I saw the shimmering skyline just across the bay - so close, yet so far away. Who knew when I'd have another chance as a crew rest in San Diego?
The next day, we flew the long flight directly to Germany, where we sat for five days before we flew again. After an out and back flight to the Sandbox, we sat another five days in Germany, waiting for a mission going home. We were well over our planned 11-day trip - it was just a matter of time before we lined up with a jet bound for Seattle.
When our alert call finally came, we were in for a surprise: after a fuel stop in eastern Canada, we would land in San Diego for another crew rest before heading home the next day. After a long flight, we landed in San Diego just after sunset. But this time, we were ready. Somewhere over Canada, I had made a call on the airplane's satellite phone and booked six rooms at the Marriott in the Gaslamp Quarter.
Our second night in San Diego was 180 degrees from our first night. My hotel room overlooked Petco Park, home of the Padres. We walked the bustling streets of the Gaslamp Quarter, found a Mexican restaurant for a late dinner and margaritas, and ended our evening at a local watering hole. I had a nice rest, and even woke up early enough for a quick run and a coffee before our alert.
My faith had been renewed.
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