When I found out that the last ever Virgin America flight was taking off from San Francisco, near where I’m from, and landing in LA, where I live now, I had a thought:
“What if I just flew up there for the day, ate some bomb San Francisco sourdough bread fresh out of the oven, visited my favorite SF cookie shop, and took the last flight back to LA?”
“Naw, that’s ridiculous. You can’t do that. That’s a waste of money,” was certainly one of the voices that responded to that thought.
But Dave, one of our founders, flew to Vegas and back for a turkey burger one day for the hell of it. Because he and Brian had just scored early-adopter subscriptions to a private jet service (the “Uber” of private jets) and…he felt like it.
It was about freedom, living how he wanted to live, doing what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it, and challenging limiting beliefs – his and other people’s – about what’s possible, “realistic,” and “ok” to do and experience in life.
I had always admired Virgin America, for multiple reasons. Because of how good I felt walking onto their planes vs every other domestic airline – it was like walking into a cool ass lounge with the black leather seats, the mood lighting and fog machines, and even the crew looking sharp and being so friendly. Most airlines these days feel a lot like being on a bus. (See “airbus”.)
I also admired it for its awesome creator, Richard Branson, who seems like a pretty good, conscious, caring human being, especially for a billionaire. And Brian talks about him a lot in terms of developing genuine confidence (Branson dealt with social anxiety and shyness), connection skills, creativity, success…and just living.
And hey, tickets for the round trip were less than $100.
But still, $100 isn’t pocket change. Was it worth it for a day trip to hang out in the City?
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted my own skepticism.
Suddenly, I realized I’d have no issue spending $100 on a couple nights out in LA, especially if I was clubbing that weekend.
I’d have no problem driving to Vegas for a night with friends, paying for a hotel, expensive nightclub tickets, some overpriced drinks, and racking up a couple hundred dollars in less than 24 hours.
There was just something in paying to get on a plane and come back the same day that registered as “not ok” in my mind, regardless of the cost.
It’s not something a lot of people do that aren’t filthy rich, and certainly not to just hang out, eat, and be part of the last flight….on an airline I hadn’t even gotten to use very often.
But I wanted to do it.
I wanted to step further into being FEARLESS, further into living outside the box of social norms that I’d allowed to control me for so long, and further into making my dream life a reality. Have more life experiences. And here was a relatively easy opportunity.
And that sourdough bread!
But I failed to follow one of the FEARLESS principles – decisiveness – with pulling the trigger on the airfare…and prices suddenly doubled. 🙈
It was late at night when I was looking at the tickets and I knew stuff like that fluctuates a fair amount (btw-if you ever see prices for airfare or hotel jump up WHILE you’re shopping or checking out, try using a private browser or a different device. The price usually hasn’t actually changed. The website is just trying to soak extra income out of you.) so I decided to chance it, go to bed, and look again after I got back from the gym in the morning.
Holding my breath the next day, I waited for Virgin’s prices to load.
And what do ya know? The prices had dropped even a little lower than when I first looked.
I didn’t hesitate this time.
And I was rewarded with a taste of my dream life.
On the morning of April 24th, I Ubered to LAX with just the clothes on my back, a drawstring backpack, and my cane for walking distances. It was the least “stuff” I’d ever traveled anywhere with, which was in itself an incredibly freeing feeling.
The flight from Los Angeles to San Francisco is a quick one – between a delay taking off (typical San Francisco fog issues) and waiting a while for a Lyft from SFO, I spent nearly as much time in the airports to start my day as in the air.
Riding through the beautiful, fun, steep ups and downs of San Francisco’s terrain with the sun shining down on us, I started my day in the City meeting up with my closest high school friend, Trevor, in the Mission District for “lunch” at Anthony’s Cookies…because who says cookies aren’t lunch? (Pro tip: Get there earlier in the day for the best selection. I can’t tell you what to get though. They’re all amazing.)
We caught up a little, scarfed down the sweets, and then he had to get back into work.
But before he left me to continue my midweek adventure, Trevor mentioned Mission Pies to me, which was just a few minutes walk away.
And it’s never a bad day for pie, so screw it, next up was pie. (Go for the Blueberry Chess pie. The lemon zest pie was too lemony for me to even waste more than a few bites on, and the strawberry rhubarb didn’t I don’t know if I finished either.)
Then, it was on to the main course: That San Francisco sourdough at Tartine Bakery.
I’d done my research, and from how often it was mentioned at or near the top of the City’s “best sourdough bread” lists, it seemed like the best bet.
I got there early, well before the afternoon batch was due out of the oven, as tipsters advised.
One of the staff tried to get me to take one of their morning loaves, but there was no way that was happening after I’d gotten on a plane for this. She was pretty patronizing and made me feel awkward for a moment the way she looked at me when I explained that this was kind of a big deal and the way she asked other staff to start their afternoon bread list with my name, but even that was another mini growth exercise for me: Being clear about what I wanted, sticking to it, and letting go of what other people think.
While I waited for my legendary loaf, I grabbed a coffee, parked myself outside, and gazed into the beautiful San Francisco neighborhood, breathed in the sea air, and really sat in appreciation of how fucking cool this day was.
I was in San Francisco, eating bomb food, adventuring for the day, just to take the last ever Virgin America flight…because I wanted to.
A piece of freedom.
The bread finally came out of the oven, piping hot, steaming, and delicious.
And it was indeed some of the best sourdough I’d ever had. Certainly, the best I’d ever had fresh and soft out of the oven.
I took my time savoring it, ate some of their awesome pastries, got an extra loaf to take home to my roommates, and by then it was time to head back to SFO so I wouldn’t be in a rush.
If I’d known what was next, I’d have headed to the airport even earlier.
When I got to the gate, a flash mob of Virgin crew members was dancing through the boarding area.
It was a packed party. There were photo op setups, cupcakes, people laughing, and people crying.
The gate agent choked back tears as she made a little celebratory announcement and then got to her final “now boarding” speel for this beautiful airline.
This was special. I wasn’t the only person crazy enough to take this flight just to be on it. Far from it. Almost every passenger was there specifically to be part of it.
The party continued on to the plane. Such a cool, communal experience.
People went crazy as they sang along with Virgin’s famous “Saftey Dance” safety video, which was played over and over. We passed around a Richard Branson cardboard cutout and took photos. Travel websites had cameras set up throughout the plane and roaming photographers. They handed out champagne and special cookies. (Because I hadn’t gotten enough diabetes for the day, yet.)
Everybody. Was. Social!
As we landed and taxied to the gate at LAX and Virgin officially became Alaska (minus one long-haul flight that took off just before our “last departure”), they tried to switch on some Alaska voiceover (as I’m sure the crew was mandated to) but our big chorus of boos made them cut that shit right out.
I nabbed (stole) one of the safety cards, and walked off the plane. All the signage at the gate as we walked off had already been switched over to Alaska. Tear.
But there was one more really cool surprise.
Alaska – quite wisely, for the disgruntled Virgin audience on board, very upset that they were doing away with our favorite airline brand – decided to let us have an afterparty in their LAX lounge.
They completely backed off, didn’t pull any Alaska marketing stuff, and let us hang out together.
Besides only having been in an airport lounge once on a middle-of-the-night layover in Moscow, I got to party with the flight crew, get to know them a little, hear their stories, thoughts, memories, and emotions, and celebrate the best American airline for a few final moments.
Hanging out with the flight crew on my favorite airline. Are you kidding? This was a dream for the trains, planes, and boats-fascinated kid in me.
They even handed out a bunch of Virgin America memorabilia, the coolest of which is my commemorative flight rubber bag tag.
It stays on my backpack everywhere I go. Former Virgin (now Alaska) flight attendants often comment on it…and I just have an easy conversation starter with their flight attendants everywhere I go now 😉
A freeing, fun, adventurous day. Being part of a pretty rare experience…and community of some people who I still stay in touch with on social media. An “in” with cute flight attendants everywhere. And a new reality for the kinds of things I can experience and be a part of in life.
All because I stopped, took a closer look at my thinking and stories about what’s ok to do and spend money and time on, stepped into a little tension, and went for it.
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