A Long Day’s Journey Into Night
Racing for daylight, Lane confronts the familiar go/no-go decision and decides to do both.
By Lane Wallace
April 2004
 “If we don’t start moving soon,” I find myself thinking as my frustration simmers into overboil, “I swear to God I’m going to scream.”
I’m sitting in the middle of the I-580 freeway, which currently looks more like a big valet parking lot that just happens to be four traffic lanes wide. I’ve been on the road for over two hours, trying to go a distance that normally takes a third of that time. In the past 20 minutes, we’ve moved no more than 100 yards. And as I watch helplessly from a sea of cars in a canyon with no other exit or options, the sun is moving steadily lower and lower in the sky.
It started out to be such a great afternoon. It was a perfect late fall flying day—clear blue sky, no clouds, warm temperatures and a golden glow over the California hills. So my great, wonderful plan was to finish work early and fly over to my friend Kimberly’s for a fun dinner party and overnight visit. I even planned to get there in time to help her cook.
Of course, in the way of all great plans, life didn’t quite follow the script. I didn’t get my work done until almost 2 p.m. But I still figured I had plenty of time. Kimberly’s runway doesn’t have lights, and it’s situated in an isolated area at the base of the Sierra foothills. So you have to land there before dark. But to do that, I only had to be wheels up by 4:15 p.m. And the Livermore Airport is only about a 40-minute drive from my house. Even in rush-hour traffic, it’s never taken me more than an hour and a half to get there.
The minor detail I’d forgotten in all that planning, however, was the fact that it was a major holiday weekend. And in Los Angeles or San Francisco, that means if you’re not on the roads out of town by 1 p.m., you should probably just stay home. But by the time I realized my mistake, I was halfway to the airport and too stubborn and annoyed to turn around. I’d just will the traffic to move fast enough for me to get there in time.
Unfortunately, the universe didn’t see fit to cooperate. I tried side roads. I tried the fast lane. I tried shortcuts. But by the time I got to the airport, finished the world’s most efficient preflight (the fact that I’d just gone flying the day before helped) and jumped into the cockpit, it was still 4:45 p.m. Half an hour past deadline.
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