Spent today in the lovely, polite Portland airport where the teenagers who work at Wendy’s neither understand or agree with what their corporate overlords are telling them and where the TSA agents are very chatty about their work problems and don’t seem especially concerned about performing their jobs.
Also, they are not able to distinguish between gel and liquid, so take that public education system.
And then there was five hours in the cramped exit row of a plane. Really, Delta, we pick the exit rows for the space (and, yes, the responsibility, because I at least trust myself) but this plane’s blueprints had a flaw somewhere.
And then we whisked through the Atlanta airport, to the shuttle, to the car and then back home, where the old lady at Cracker Barrel locked the door in our face with a smile. Hey, you don’t want my money, that’s fine. I’ll happily spend it somewhere else forever.
I tend to get indignant about my capitalism after nine hours of travel.
So we visited Mellow Mushroom, which should have been closed based on their door, but the neon burned, and the pizza cooked because, sure man, whatever. I love Mellow Mushroom. I like spending my money there. (See how that works?)
Anyway, here’s Smith Hall at Lewis & Clark, where we’ve spent the last five days writing.
Successful trip, nice mini-vacation, a small new section of the country explored and approved of (Congratulations, Thomas Jefferson) and looking forward to a return trip in some future temperate season. We lost two hours and about 30 degrees of July in this trip. There’s nothing wrong with that at all.
Anyway, those are apple trees. They are dropping fruit and squirrels and kids are handling the rest. The squirrels are fearless:
You could get so close that you could catch that guy. But you couldn’t have gotten him through TSA or into Cracker Barrel.
