That's not technically true (I don't think) but it's what occurred to me as we left the ground and took to the air above the Columbia. I haven't flown since I was 19, I think. Haven't left the time zone in all of that.
So we drove to Portland Sunday, stopping to pick up my mother (thanks, Mom) in Salem so the car could get back. Stayed with Michael and Melissa and Aidan in NW Portland (apt. in the basement of an old church) and rose in the morning to take the MAX. MAX takes about an hour, takes one right to the airport. Stunningly civilized and hassle free. Once there (and I kind of love the Portland airport) we made our way through security and ended up at our gate. John Malkovich was there, which was more jarring than anything else. Plane was cramped, particularly for me at the window, and the flight was more grey and uncomfortable than exciting. Man in front of Dave had a mullet, woman betwixt us spoke spanish and genuflected and wrote three weeks of detailed schedules for herself in her day planner.
Denver airport was vast and filled with all sorts of people that I don't interact with on a regular basis. A man in a tie in Eugene is an oddity, some sort of out-of-place. In an airport...they're fucking everywhere. It's a terrible society that would think that that particular outfit connotes something, and insists that large portions of its members wear it regularly. Just silly. Also, the Denver Airport's full of atrocious art-weird statues of dead astronaut/congressmen, aesthetically and racially offensive Native American art, and then, the cherry on top...these murals.
(Blogger's not letting me post the pictures directly-I may try and do that later. Unfamiliar computer and all. Check the link-it's incredible)
So that was weird, that was odd. And good, as this is an adventure, and supposed to be odd. For oh so many reasons. We left Denver in an Airbus, which I preferred to our dingy old american plane from the previous leg, and headed to Houston. I was more comfortable, so I joked about the plane crashing with the gentlemen ahead of me in line. This is bad form, apparently.
We flew and flew and flew some more. Guy at our window watched Cheers (I'm not kidding) the whole flight, I managed to get some more Ted Hughes in and eventually we landed in Houston. Bright, sunny, 65 degree Houston.
More Later.
1 comment:
wow, those murals are really weird (and kinda of super awesome).
it's funny, cause if you were to joke with anyone who knew you about the plane crashing, we'd just laugh at you ... but i guess complete strangers just don't get that a-ron humor.
glad to hear it's going well so far.
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