June 15: San Francisco
Flew in from Gainesville for the summer meeting of the SPJ executive committee. The flights, for a change, were uneventful -- except that my pals at Delta failed to put my suitcase on the same plane they put me on.

But they were gracious about it. They said it would be in on the next flight from Atlanta.

Of course, that wasn't too awfully helpful since I needed to get down to Menlo Park for an SPJ meet-n-greet event at 6, and to spend the night, thanks to the graciousness of Christie Tatum, SPJ president-elect, and her mother-in-law.

I ask Delta to deliver the bag to the house in Menlo Park.

"No problem," says the agent. "It will probably be there around 2 a.m."

"2 a.m.?" say I. "Why so late?"

"The service we have delivers to all the hotels before they deliver to residences."

"Hmmm," think I. "Just how is that logical?"

My guess is that they figure that folks who are staying at a private residence don't need their luggage, at least not as badly as the folks staying at hotels do. If that private residence happens to be your house, that's all well and good. When it's somebody else's mother-in-law's place, the logic doesn't hold water. Having some idiot knocking on the door at 2 a.m. asking for you probably isn't going to endear you to the hostess, but the way you smell after flying 3,000 miles may not endear you to her either -- let alone anyone else at the meet-n-greet.

But I decide it's no use arguing. Since I am moving to a hotel in San Francisco tomorrow, I just tell them to deliver the bag to the hotel. Then I call the hotel to make sure they'll accept it, since the bag will be arriving before the guest.

Thankfully, it all worked out. When I got to the hotel at noon today (Friday), the bag was here, and I could change clothes -- finally. I'm sure everyone around me appreciates it as much as I do, maybe more.