We come to you live from the San Francisco International Airport, where Danny and I are waiting to catch the 12:40 AM flight to Minneapolis on famous Sun Country Airlines. We haven't figured out how to use the wireless keyboard yet, so I'm typing this with my thumbs. We are currently at Homeland Security threat level Orange, and people look like they're tired. A man in a beige business suit sits across from us, speaking into his cell phone in an unidentifiable foreign language. In the check in line, a guy with a portable dvd player is bumping Tupac. To the left, a woman sleeps on her husband's shoulder, and across the way a woman sits by herself, staring straight ahead.

Our good friend Boomer Hurwitz drove us to the airport, and Liza and Chandra came along for the ride. In the backseat, my guitar sat in its case across our laps. Crossing the Bay Bridge, we listened to Wu Tang's Bring the Ruckus, and as San Francisco came up large and twinkling to the right, I stared out the window and wondered what the hell we think we are doing.

There is no time to think of that now though. The plane is boarding.

So long, California. We'll see you again soon.