Today I’m inside, watching the trees bend, our plastic chairs scuttle across the deck, and the rain hammer down in sheets. Yesterday, people madly rushed to the hardware store for sandbags to protect against the coming storm. No, I’m not in Alaska; it’s not January.
This last weekend in October was the date of San Francisco’s annual Fleet Week, an event more reliable for predicting perfect temperatures and blue, sunny skies than the Farmers’ Almanac. That is, until Saturday. Last year at this time, Steve and I were visiting my brother and his family in Boston, revelling in the vibrant autumn colors. We promised ourselves that we’d make sure to be in the Bay Area this year for our last chance to see the U.S. Navy Blue Angels fly over. And this was the first time anyone can remember that the weather was anything less than ideal.
We shivered at Chrissy Field on Saturday, watching three hours of the pre-show – a majestic parade of ships and amazing aeronautic acrobatics. By the time the Blue Angels were up, the fog had settled in and the winds had picked up. After 10 minutes of stunning us as they flew overhead at 400 miles per hour, the angels had to cancel the rest of the show. Turns out their wings are only 18 inches apart as they soar at those speeds, and visibility is a must for their precision flying. We were disappointed, but thankful that a mid-air disaster was prevented and for a fun day as tourists at Fisherman’s Wharf.