It was my last early morning trip to San Francisco to give a 5-minute state of journalism education speech to a group of publishers, probably my last official speech of my journalism career, followed by my last board meeting.
It was a glorious, clear day in the city and I considered taking a walk around downtown after my meeting. But I was anxious to get home, and tired, and thinking about all that is left to be accomplished before leaving here in seven (yes, seven!) days --- if all goes as planned.
I knew the subway connection to take the train home would be close but decided to go for it. But as the BART subway reached the Richmond station, I could hear the CHOO CHOO of the departing whistle of the train to Sacramento. I had missed it by less than a minute --- literally.
I raced up the stairs to the train platform in fast pursuit of others who were also trying to catch blasted train to Sacramento.
It was gone.
It was an hour and a half wait for the next one, outside, in the dark, on a cold and windy platform in a city known for its random gunfire.
It called for a New Plan.
Before I knew what was happening, I was on the next train to Martinez with two women who had also missed the Sacramento train. We were to go to a few stops down the line to a small community where we thought we might find a few restaurants across from the train station, then catch the last train to Sacramento.
It worked. And what's even better, I had a great time, one that I wouldn't have had if I had made the first Sacramento connection. We found a pitcher of margaritas, a guitar serenade, good conversation and a lot of laughter.
It was just another lesson that things work out exactly as they are supposed to and I just might as well chill out and enjoy the ride --- the whole ride.
My new traveling buddies
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