Portland, Oregon

So I packed up my stuff, kissed my dog goodbye (wiped my lips on my shirt sleeve) and headed off on vacation last week.

Now, while I actually got on the plane last Tuesday, this little trip to Portland, Oregon to see some old friends started months earlier.

My little fandango began way back in March when my friends Brian and Lisa decided to escape northwest Ohio and move to the Pacific Northwest for the culture and scenery. Naturally, I spent the several months immediately following their departure talking about going out to visit them while not actually doing anything about it.

I put off the trip off to finish up a project at work before taking off because I didn’t want it sitting over my head, so it was sometime in May before I got down to the excruciating exercise of shopping around the Internet for airline tickets.

I spent weeks visiting Web sites like Travelocity.com, Orbitz.com, Expedia.com, DoyouthinkI’mmadeofmoney?.com and Justbuytheticketforgod’ssake.com several times a day.

I put in every variable I could think of to try and find the cheapest fare possible. What if I fly out of Toledo? What if I fly out of Detroit? What if I leave and come back on Tuesdays? What if I leave on a Wednesday but come back on a Saturday? What if I fly out of Toledo but stop over in Cincinnati? What if I fly out of Detroit but have no layovers? What if I stay only four days? What if I stay eight days? What if I wear green on the flight? What if I have a nervous breakdown trying to figure this all out and wind up spending all my money on Xanax?

Jeez-o-Pete! Do you remember the days before the Internet when you just bought tickets from a travel agent? You walked in, they told you what they had, and you bought it. There was no haggling over price; no bickering over layovers. Take it or leave ... and smile while you write that check, mister!

Still, once I had the ticket, the waiting for the date of departure to roll around was even worse than ticket shopping. And of course work has been as slow as all get out ... with the Ohio Legislature on break and the city government shifting into its usual summertime low gear ... so naturally the days just crawled.

Then, of course, I was running about 45 minutes behind schedule the actual day of my flight, so I was rushing around like a chicken with my head cut off.

Now I always request a seat in one of the emergency exit rows because you get more leg room and sometimes there’s only one seat to the aisle, but alas, the airline gods did not see fit to grant my request even once during my entire trip.

When I boarded the plane for the final four-hour leg of my trip to Portland, I was hopeful that I might be the only person in my row, but two great big giant bubbas showed up at the last minute and plopped down next to me.

AAAAAAAwwwww, &#$%!

But I’m hear to tell you the guy sitting next to me was the kindest ... and freshest smelling ... person I’ve ever met! Sitting next to him was probably more pleasant than if I had gotten my solitary seat on the emergency exit row.

So I hunkered down in my seat and quietly waited for my legs to go numb during the on-flight movie. Have you ever noticed they always play the most G-rated, non-offensive, i.e. boring movies on airplanes? Sadly it was no surprise when the movie came on and I discovered it was called something like "Flippity Floppity, the Happy Bunny Goes to Joyful, Candy Coated Love Land."

There are moments ... not many ... but there are moments when I seriously question why I gave up drinking.

When we landed, I bid farewell to my newfound, sweet-smelling friend and got juiced for my vacation to finally start.

Now, the time I actually spent on the ground in Oregon (it’s pronounce Or-a-gun; heaven help you if you pronounce it Or-a-g-on out there, you’ll never hear the end of it!) was spectacular.

I dined at some great restaurants (the trick is to ask locals where they eat), hiked Mount St. Helen’s, visited Crater Lake and got caught up on the lives of some of my dearest and closest friends. As an added bonus, an old college roommate of mine just happens to be living in Portland these days with her husband and son, so I also got to spend time with them.

And on top of that, I even had time to finish up two books I’ve been reading for the last 200 years: "A portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" by James Joyce and Jack Kerouac’s "Mexico City Blues."

And oh, there’s a book store in Portland called Powell’s that is, and I’m not kidding you, one city block wide and three stories high! Every time I walk into a normal bookstore I get discouraged about all of the wonderful books out there I still have yet to read, but walking into Powell’s made me want to simply tie a rock around my waist and throw myself into the Willamette River!

But, I didn’t, and after a week of pretending like Ohio didn’t exist, it was time for me to return to my life. I’m sure Brian and Lisa threw a party when I finally cleared out. Having been a host numerous times myself, I know it’s always nice to see house guests, but it’s always nice to see house guests go too.

Once inside the Portland airport, Murphy’s Law kicked in. Somebody already had checked in under my name so I had to go a special counter to get that straightened out and convince them I don’t need to pay $50 to check my third bag because I, in fact, had not checked in one bag yet!

Well, on the way to the special counter, I forgot my CD case at another counter, got my situation straightened out, and made my way to an escalator that promptly took me to the parking garage.

Once back inside, I noticed my CD was gone, went back to the original counter I had been at and retrieved it.

After that I went to get in line to go through the metal detector when some some extremely uptight-looking woman cut right in front of me!

Halfway through that line, I realized the person at the special counter did not give me a boarding pass for my layover in Cincinnati, so I got out of line and spent the next five minutes explaining that I was not, in fact, trying to elude the metal detector.

Back at the special counter the guy told me I would get a boarding pass in Cincinnati, I had everything I needed for right now and would I please go away because he was very busy.

I went to get back in line for the metal detector and some teenager cut right in front of me this time.

Then they tore apart my carry-on bag because the X-ray machine showed I had a container full of liquid. The dastardly eye contact solution didn’t make it past that crack squad, but I was allowed to keep it because it was less than 12 fluid ounces.

So I made my way to a magazine shop to kill some time and then go to board my plane. Unfortunately, that’s when I discovered I had misplaced the one boarding pass I was given.

The lady at the counter joked, "Oh well, we can’t let you on the plane then!"

HAHAHAHA! Keep it up!

She then promptly printed me out a boarding pass not only for Portland but also for the one I needed for Cincinnati, which comforted me on some level.

Once I was on the plane, I was seated next to a little old lady who must have been about 105 and wasn’t going to give up an inch on the shared arm rest for love nor money! The movie on the flight back was "The Eternally Prepubescent Looking Sensitive Boy Gains Valuable Insight Into How Smoochy Girls Think."

When I all was said and done, I made it home alive.

Now, I know everyone says they love to travel, but, in general, I kind of hate it. It’s stressful and expensive and I know this sounds weird but my feet always hurt when I fly. I don’t know what it is, but my feet ache when they come within 100 yards of an airport.

Douglas Adams, author of the "Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy" series once wrote that it can hardly be a coincidence that no human language in the history of mankind ever came up with the phrase, "Pretty as an airport." Buildings, he reasoned, are meant to reflect the general mood of the people inside them and people in airports are usually in ugly moods.

Amen, brother.

Nope, I don’t think I’m going to venture past the local fishing hole for my next vacation. You see, I know a place with all the comforts of home: It’s called HOME!

By John Graber, Courier reporter

Comments

[Joy]

Entertaining travelogue, J! I hear you about the hardships of flying. I've sat behind a flatulant elderly man, on top of a wet seat (wet from what I didn't want to know), in front of screaming babies and seat-kicking toddlers, and beside a mother who threw up until her sedatives kicked in.

Driving be much slower, but better.

That bookstore sounds awesome, as does the Pacific Northwest in general.

[Mike WIlson]

What a lame article. I was expecting to read about all of the great places that you visisted and did in Portland, and instead got a list of terrible airplane stories. I thought you would have been better served focusing on the Northwest area and not on Northwest Airlines.

[Rebecca]

Mike -- Did you check out the photo gallery on Portland? You will find plenty of beautiful images and descriptions there.

[Jeff]

Hi. I checked out the photo gallery concerning Portland, Oregon. Nice. Also, I have a brother who lives in Portland with his family. Had a family reunion there in 2002. Had a good time. Took a plane to get there. Worked out just fine. Sorry to hear that John had all the trouble that he had. Being a Christian, it helps in living day to day. And also with airports & planes!