His head has been removed for confidentiality purposes. This is NOT my dad.

I’m sitting at the San Francisco airport, waiting for my red eye flight to Newark.

To my left, a chic European couple. Their style is effortless. Even their somewhat thin, stringy hair looks like they want it that way on purpose. They easily find a table near an outlet and pull out their Mac Books and various accessories from beautiful bags. They are probably fashion designers. Or museum curators.

To my right? The guy pictured above. He’s obviously American. I know this because I’m listening to him talk on his cell phone. He’s going on vacation with his wife. She went to get a Pepsi. He’s loud. But he is very sweet, and friendly and you know, sort of like my dad. Except my dad would not wear these shorts to an airport. I hope.

Dear Dad: do not wear Hawaiian shorts to the airport. Or any where, really, except at the pool or in Hawaii.

Okay. I’ll keep you posted on how things progress, fashion wise, on this trip. Since I’m going to Manhattan, I think I’ll have many beautiful people stories to tell. I think New Yorkers are chic by nature, and they don’t even have to speak European.