Journal notes: Thursday June 12th, and it has been a loooong day....
When I sat at the Austin airport this morning-- before first light-- one thought kept running through my mind: "I must be completely mad!"
I am an HSP and a profound introvert-- the kind of person you can only drag to a "group event" under protest, and who then wants to leave after 45 minutes, citing a budding tension headache and a severe case of overstimulation. Yet, there I was, about to voluntarily fly halfway across the country to spend four days with a group of 30-odd complete strangers.
The trip from Austin to San Francisco seemed filled with "omens"-- and not good ones, at that. The SuperShuttle driver was late getting to my house; it turned out that the driver was a rookie in her first week, fumbling about with maps, circling neighborhoods. I got to put the benefit of living in this town for over 20 years
to use in a very UN-HSP-like fashion, guiding us to the other pickups, so we did make it to the airport on schedule.
The first leg of the flight, from Austin to Denver, was uneventful. until we arrived at the gate-- and just sat. Then the pilot got on the PA and announced that they were having some trouble with the jetway, but that it would be fixed "momentarily." About 10 minutes later, he got back on and announced that a "jetway mechanic" was now on-site-- but if the problem couldn't be fixed, we'd have to be towed to a new gate. Meanwhile, the clock ticked. I was scheduled to have 53 minutes ground time in Denver, in all. I didn't need that, to add to my stress level.
Another 10 minutes; another announcement-- a set of stairs has been ordered, and we ended up leaving the plane through the right forward exit, going down to the tarmac, and back into the terminal via the fire escape. Then I sprinted towards the gate for the SFO flight, my bags clobbering innocent bystanders as I went. Have I mentioned that the United Airlines terminal at DIA is really loooong?
However, just as I ran up to the gate, I heard the announcement that my flight was now part of a "ground hold" in San Francisco-- apparently the cloud cover had settled on the ground there, and we were being held at the gate for an hour, in place of flying circles above San Francisco.
As I caught my breath, I did feel a momentary sense of relief, then my worry crept back up a notch since Sheri-- my carpool partner-- was now going to be sitting there, waiting for me to arrive.
We eventually landed at SFO about an hour late, but thanks to a series of fortunate breaks involving elevators and the airport train, I get to the car rental center only 45 minutes later than expected.
At the rental counter, I ran into a minor snag. I ending up having a bit of a "discussion" with the counter clerk-- who was just as perky as one can be-- as to whether or not I could rent a car and pay with a debit card. I knew that they needed a credit card for the deposit, but I wanted to pay with the debit card. Evidently this was a confusing new form of rocket science. Meanwhile, I looked around; there was no sign of Sheri. Finally, I managed to momentarily "reconnect" with a fragment of my past career in sales (Ugh!), apply a little persuasive sales technique on the counter clerk, and I was good to go. Fortunately, Sheri had her cell phone, and called the rental counter, while I was standing there-- a few minutes later we met, down in the parking garage.
I have met HSPs before. Well... sort of. The truth is that I have "met" 100's-- in cyberspace. I supposed I have met a good number of "likely suspects," face to face but not explored it further. But I have only met two people, previously, who have positively "self-identified" as HSPs. Plus my late cousin in Denmark, who was the only HS man I have known.
As we made our way north on 101, Sheri and I conversed easily-- we are both soft spoken, and both comfortable with relative silence; yet I also felt a sort of ease that comes from-- I suppose-- some instinctual "knowing" that the person I am talking to "gets" who I am. And vice-versa. When two strangers meet, they might make small talk about work and the weather-- we talked about "life" and being an HSP.
Walker Creek Ranch is about 60 miles north of San Francisco airport-- that's actually further than it sounds; in Thursday
afternoon California traffic it takes 2 1/2 hours. However, the initial stress over traffic is soon left behind, and the final 17 miles winds through the peaceful scenery of California's "Golden Hills." My initial reaction to Walker Creek Ranch was one of mild amazement-- that you can find a place so "remote," so close to a major city. My next impression was that the Ranch is a perfect venue for an HSP Gathering-- a couple of dozen buildings clustered in a peaceful valley, surrounded by 1700+ acres (for you metric folks, that's about 700 hectares) of pasture, woods and hills, criss-crossed by hiking trails. This will be our "home" for the next four days.
