Welcome to Portland

First let me say that I love Portland. Seriously. It's the best place, ever. Granted I've only been there twice for a combined total of eight days, but it feels more like home than anyplace I have ever visited, or lived for that matter.

Back to the trip...

So sitting in a chair in the waiting zone, reading a book that I think is about Vampires. It's part of a series of books by an author I can't recall the name of, I see Colleen for the first time in nine years. She looked great, and to be honest I'm pretty damn handsome, um.... So after a hello to you hug we head for baggage claim. I'm still freaking out that I'm in Portland after so many years but more so that we're actually hanging out. All of which came from a friend request I sent via myspace back at the end of 07. I avoided those types of sites for as long as I can remember but it did serve its purpose in getting me back in touch with a handful of really important people. A very small group of people that I love dearly. You'll hear more about them later as well.

Ok.

So normally we would have watched the spinning carousel of luggage for days, checking every single bag that past by us. I, not unlike every other person on that flight, had the same type bag. Basic black suitcase on wheels. A dime a dozen in any airport across the globe. Not this time. My mom, bless her Jean goodness, has piles of random things like stickers, and art supplies and miniature shovels that make great accessories for foot high snowmen. The stickers came in handy on this trip.

I found a variety of sports related items which included, baseball bats, soccer balls, scooters, footballs, etc. Normally, aside from the boys of thunder that most call Nascar, I hate sports. I'm not a fan at all of most sports. I dig some stuff...

So anyway I thought it would be easier, and I suggest you do this the next time you fly, to litter the outside of my typical black suitcase on wheels with a plethora of stickers. Sure it makes the bag appear to belong to a twelve year old but it also makes it stand out like a sore thumb amidst bags that appear the same.

We started looking on the wrong carousel but soon moved to the one that had my flight number listed. I always do that. So without having to wait more than a few minutes for the bags to start filing out onto the spinning bag grabber, there was my bag glowing with tiny stickers. One was a dune buggy so it wasn't all boring stuff. I grabbed my suitcase and we're on our way.

After a good 6.5 hours and a few airline canned beers I was about ready for a smoke. The exit doors were right around the corner. This was a different view of PDX that I had the previous time I flew out with devil girl to see her brother and his girlfriend. We won't talk about devil girl. So I'm looking around trying to see if anything seemed familiar. Not so much.

So we're off to her car in the next parking lot. I will say that each time I've been to this airport the ease of retrieving luggage and making your way to the car was a lot easier than some of the other places I've been too.

Colleen lives fairly close to the airport, having a Portland address, so we decided to go grab some food. The $3 bag of whatever the hell it was, that I had on the plane was far from filling and tasty. She suggested a place called Dot's. It's a little dive bar not to far from her place. I say dive bar lovingly. A nice little spot that was frequented by the tattooed crowd and that was calming. Not like the places in Atlanta that if you haven't been going since the bar opened then you weren't really welcome there. Maybe it's just me but the Atlanta folks can get pretty clicky.

So we took a table and perused the menu to find some tasty goodness. Anything at this point would have been perfect but I got more than I expected from the typical cheese burger. The best burger I think I've had in quite some time. Big and swimming in a fat slice of swiss. It was yummy. I washed that down with a few pints of PBR. It was a good start to a better trip. We sat and talked and looked around and pretty much we finishing up when they were ready to close up for the evening. Oh, and the waiter looked and acted like he could have been Perry Farrell's brother or at least related in some way. I wanted to ask him to have his brother reunite the band. I know that sounds lame but you should have seen this guy. Super nice and odd at the same time. He was cool, though.

So after a nice belly full of some food and drink we made the short ride to her apartment. We did wonder aloud about a girl that was on the corner hitch hiking with no passing traffic. It was if it was a dry run before a real world application that involved actual motorists. My guess is that she's probably still on that corner looking for a ride. Not unlike most cities Portland has a variety of colorful people.

So we make it back to her place and I see the rental for the first time. 16' doesn't seem big until you realize it's the actual box of the truck and not the entire vehicle. We have a trailer to put on there in the next day or so and that's going to make a considerable difference.

We make it into her apartment, I set my bag down and meet the felines. One I was already met from 9 years prior. Her name is Starling. Just like the Silence of the Lambs Jody Foster character from which her name was derived. Fiona was in the mix too and see seemed really friendly. I got the lay of the land on where things were and found that the fridge had a six pack waiting. That's just plain hospitable. I probably didn't need another beer but, hey..... I'm on vacation.

So for the next several hours we grabbed smokes and drinks and hit her balcony to sit and talk and smoke too many cigarettes. One thing that was obvious at all hours was the building across the drive from her. It was a shelter of sorts for woman that had recent domestic issues. I guess there isn't a very pleasant way of saying what those women had been through in days prior. I think for the most part its nondescript so people aren't really sure what happens there. One thing that seemed odd, and a bit sad, that is regardless of what hour it is the opened windows blared all things Springer or Judge type programming so it was a litany of beeps and more beeps bellowing from each window. Really loud. All the time. But since the weather was so perfect and the conversation long overdue we sat for hours until the sun was about to make its appearance. I had been up for more than a day at this point so I needed to grab some shut eye.

All in all an oddly perfect day.

Minus the long forgotten at this point, or maybe I only mentioned it once about my rip off deal, it was a perfect start. Tomorrow offered some challenges that required a bit more patience. Something that we, well.... I'll get to that next time.

roadside commentaries by Crazy Phoenix Chick

Forgive me, but I neglected to mention a few tasty curbside observations from my new best friend, Crazy Phoenix Chick. They were simply precious....

CPC: Damn, man. You've got a subway runnin' straight into the airport and inside you got a damn subway runnin' through the whole damn airport."

Me: Yep.

and my favorite....

CPC: Damn, all these women walking around in high heels and tight clothes like they belong in a puff daddy video or something.

Me: Yep.

CPC: You know what we'd call chicks dressed like that in Phoenix, don't you?

Me: Nope.

CPC: Damn, whores!

The adventure begins.....

So here goes....

I'm new to the blog world and having something to do with myself is a bit of a new thing these days as well so you're going to have to bare with me. At least for a minute or two.... Can you do that for me? Cool. Thanks.

I'll start off with the monumental cross country journey that I sadly have just returned from. It seems like a decent place to start and makes me seem adventurous and somewhat outdoorsy at the same time and that's a perfect place for us to get to know each other.

I arrived, thanks to an oddly safe ride from my next door neighbor, at the airport with time to spare. We'll call him Wilbur because that's his name. It's actually Lee but he uses Wilbur. I'll tell ya more about him later. By time to spare I mean hours. My flight wasn't until 7:29 est and I roll up proudly at the crack of 3:30. So having checked in without a hitch, at least at this point, with the nice lady at the Frontier desk, I found myself with plenty of time to spare.

My budget, which was minimal, caused me to stray away from $50 airport beers but I knew I could find solace in some pre-flight nicotine in specific outside designated areas. I could have opted for the glassed smoking room inside the airport but those things are just plain nasty. And coming from a smoker that says quite a bit.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, crazy Phoenix chick.

So having given my lighter to Wilbur because I had expected it to be confiscated at the security checkpoint, I found myself without the much needed fire. I chatted up a few arriving and departing travelers, because I'm friendly like that, but more so because they were smoking. One guy was on his way to Costa Rica. His brother just landed a gig that jetted him off to the exotic locales filled with prime fishing and road side thievery. I say thievery with prior knowledge. I had a boss once, true story, who has a condo on Flamingo Beach and a house further inland. He has to chain down things that could be stolen and warns not to stray to far from populated areas. This guy was jazzed about the impending fishing trips and days spent in the deep blue hurling tackle at over sized marine prey. You can catch you some fish in those waters. And lets be honest.... fishing is just fun.

Ok, so random "could I trouble you for a light" stories aside.... Let's get back to crazy Phoenix chick.

So there I find myself, checking my phone to see how many hours are left, I go through my lighter-less routine and ask random girl for some fire. Knowing what I know now I'd be chasing down Mr. Deep sea or some of the Swedish folks I met. Lighters aside, accents are neato.

This girl, I can't remember her name, was all out of sorts. Her original destination was Wichita, KS. Why she was held over, all day with 4 hours to go, at the lovely ATL airport was beyond me. And her for that matter. She was quite wordy and would make sailors blush with her chosen vernacular. She mentioned, repeatedly, of how she should be in Kansas and was unsure again why she was past her destination and waiting on a plane to go back in the other direction. At this point I'm imagining the residents of Kansas were busily writing thank you letters to every airline. She was a weird one. One statement that was widely used was "I'm next to effing Florida" Being familiar with a map I added a heartfelt, yep! Actually, it's more on top of Florida but I didn't want to argue semantics with her. Then she continued on how she was out of money, had no working phone (out of the five, yes five, that she had in her bag) and all of her flight food had been confiscated; food that consisted of donuts and milk. When I think relaxing in-flight beverages, milk doesn't make the list. I found this odd too because she was gnoshing on a big box of donuts at the time. I dare not think of where she hid those. So after the kind folks at the Northwestern curb-side check in gave her an available outlet to charge her phone, and a $10 spot to boot, I was to the point of moseying elsewhere. At least as far as permittable smoking was allowed and further away from crazy. She repeated her story over several phone calls, each becoming more angry in their tone. The proximity to Florida was a recurring theme. She also hinted about the lack of funds but she's barking up the wrong tree as far as expendable cash was concerned. Encountering me would have been far worse than a hard luck story to the residents of Fruita, Colorado. What you say? I'll get to Fruita, Colorado later as well.

So this went on for quite some time. You have to do something I suppose to pass the hours. Then she called what I'm guessing to be her boyfriend. She kept asking, pleading, for him to find them a nice place where they could escape and hide from the rest of the world. Especially since she was right next to Florida on a flight that should have stopped at points westward of Atlanta. I wanted to grab the phone and instruct him to find that special place for himself and take the time she's stranded here to relocate. But who am I to stand in the way of love. And to be honest I'm pretty sure he was thinking the same thing.

So that lead to "Let's go get a drink" which I assumed meant let me go buy the two of us a beer. That's not going to happen. So I checked my phone and thought it best to make my way to the gate. I forgot that you have to hop a train to get to the gate so I was concerned at this point that I would end up missing my flight because I spent too much time with crazy Phoenix chick. I didn't want to have to make that call.

So off to the checkpoints I go. Made it fine going through the lines and things until I got to the put your stuff in the tub scanner. A normal procedure that I imagine goes off without a hitch. Not so much in my case. I get on the other side of the deal to find that my sunglasses and my favorite hat had been stolen. I know it's just a hat and some cheap sunglasses but it's my hat and glasses. I just hate when people take stuff that doesn't belong to them. I guess them grabbing my book bag with camera, phone, etc. in it would have been much worse but it's still stealing and a pretty cowardly thing to do.

After asking the attendants they made a 1/2 ass Atlanta approach to retrieving my belongings and sent me on my way with an equally less impressive "sorry about that".

So after a few bitchy phone calls to my mom and Keiti, who unfortunately are the ears I bend when trouble arises, I was at my gate and ready to board.

I end up sitting between two random folks who weren't in the mood to talk. One rocking an ipod which I was immediately jealous of and the other busy at her laptop doing something in word. I really try not to peek in situations like that. Plus from a quick glance it seemed boring. Neither were in the mood for small talk.

One guy who was having an obvious problem was the 'gentlemen' behind me. He was frantic and angered because his head phones quit working and the reader wasn't accepting his card. This started off as a quiet roar and then became a flurry of profanity. Most of which was met by the steward who was none to happy. This guy, and I'm being stereotypical, had the look about him that gave me the impression he enjoyed the company of dudes in a biblical sense. I've got no problems with that but bad or not it's the easiest way to describe him. Props to him, though. He bowed up on this cat like a homeowner to a drag queen that set down a over flowing mixed drink on a corner table without using a coaster. Perhaps on an antique end table that he and his partner Glenn found during a weekend antiquing trip to the Hampton's. The perfect tone and with the verbiage that you would direct the same instructions to a toddler. Sir, "WATCH YOUR MOUTH" repeatedly. The guy kept going on but he was quickly met with the same advice and soon quieted. All in all the steward handled the situation rather well. Again, I don't want to sound like that guy but I think you get the idea.

The rest of the flight was just fine. A little cramped but that's cool. Then the plane lands in Denver. Which is weird because we drove past the airport while making our way through Colorado.

So at this point I'm watching all of the passengers exit the plane, a bit giddy because I know in just over two hours I'll be touching down in Portland. Nearly the whole plane had emptied when the stewardess stood in the aisle before mine looking oddly at me. In between goodbyes and thank you she took the time to ask me "what are you doing" I said I'm going to Portland. She responded that "You need to catch another plane"

This was all news to me. I was told at check-in that there would be a brief layover and that I wasn't to switch planes at all. I hurriedly grabbed my carry on and left the plane.

At the end of the tunnel thing, I can't recall its actual name, there was a lady instructing travelers on which gate their connecting flights were boarding. I asked her for mine and she needed to look it up. Spokane, etc. and many others were on the tip of her tongue but I seemed to have thrown her a curve ball by mentioning Portland. She walked to the end of an overly long counter and accessed the terminal, terminal. Get it? So after some checking she informed me D29. When I asked where that was, pointing she said "About a mile that way"

I thought great. So much like the juice, pre- double homicide, Hertz commercials, I ran like a madman through the airport taking full advantage of the moving sidewalk deals. I was the third to the last person to get on board the plane before they buttoned up the hatches.

This flight was far more pleasant.

I know it's getting long but I am without the ability to write something briefly.

After helping the lady next to me with her overhead light (I have long arms) I soon started a nice conversation with her. I wasn't really paying much attention at first but when I did glance over I was weirded out. I felt like I was talking to my friend Keiti, that is if Keiti was 25 years older and I stayed the same age. It was just weird. I somehow felt like McConahey (sp) in dazed and confused) ok a stretch but I do that sometimes, too.

The same glasses, or similar enough to make that assumption, the same mannerisms, hair style, etc. It was odd. So like a couple of school girls we chatted away. I broke out the big bucks for a few New Castles in the can (which have yet to show up as being charged to my account) and the rest of the journey was enjoyable. By this point my hat and glasses being stolen was merely an anecdote and less of a brutish attack on my personal belongings.

We shared the same love of Portland, aside from the fact that she has a rental there in Lake Oswego and will live there full-time in 23 months when her husband retires. I still dig it and when it's actually doable I will call Oregon home as well. Like I told Colleen, it's on the front burner, there's just no flame under it right now.

After landing, 15 minutes early, the Keiti Doppleganger walked me through the airport and told me where baggage claim would be found and where Colleen should be waiting for me.

I felt kinda bad though because when we approached the area where folks meet arriving loved ones, etc. I exclaimed, "Don't see her, don't see her..... Don't... there she is" and I bolted. I did manage to look in the dopplegangers general direction and she waved nicely with a smile on her face and wished me a good trip. She was a nice lady.

So, despite lots of emails and a recent phone call, I hadn't seen Colleen in over nine years. We were both profiles on myspace at this point and here we are ready to embark on a 12 day, 24/7, ten state adventure across 1/5 of the country together.

This should be interesting....