Back to Oregon...
Yesterday was a long day. No doubt about it.
Wook and I stayed up the night before since we had to be out the door at 4am. And what's 4am after waking up at 10am (with 12 hours of sleep since wook was still recovering) and I fell asleep on the couch for an hour that afternoon? Child's play.
Flight to Chicago was quick. At least I think it was. I don't really remember. It's one of those puddle jumps that I zonked for maybe an hour. Missed the in-flight beverage, but that's okay.
Oh, Chicago. You kill me. As much as I love to avoid that void of all things timely, unfortunately Norfolk is a United hub also and Chicago just seems to be in the cards (unless I can book US Airlines from Frisco to Charlotte, etc.). But thank you for that 40 minute delay because we didn't have a plane. Knowing I had a 30 minute connect in Portland made me nervous. On the outside I was cool. But let's just say I wasn't hungry for that second PB&J I made.
At 12:30 I started wonder how far out we were from PDX. I was nervous. I was in Row 8, which is nice for a quick getaway...but how many elbows am I going to have to throw to get thru? Although I knew I had no responsibility for missing the flight, it would still suck to wait until 4:25pm to get the next flight to Medford. Where's the nearest bar in the terminal? I'm serious.
So we land at 12:45. Let's move people, let's move. There's still a little hope. "We've now reached PDX, the local time is "Hurry the hell up" (okay, that's what I was thinking), we'll be taxi-ing...blah blah blah." The time is still ticking away. 12:50. Good thing I have sneakers on so I can Jackie Joyner Kersey over these people. So as we finally get to our gate, the lady attendant makes an announcement.
"Due to some tight connections some passengers are facing. If you could please let them out first before you make your way out. The flight to Medford, they're holding for you."
NOOOO Wayyy!!! Really? That's me. Move it, people. No joke. There were people every 40 feet or so waving us on. I felt like I was running a marathon. The stripe to the finish line, oh so close. So walking as quickly as we could, all 10 or so of us made it aboard the sardine can of a plane to head home. Ya, we were like half the flight. I guess it pays to be from a small town where waiting an extra 5 minutes for the other half of the flight isn't so bad.
And as much as I want to relive the descent into Medford, let's not. It involves feeling the same way I did after I was talked onto California Screamin'. Let's just say I was a little green. "Don't puke...don't puke...don't puke."
Wook and I stayed up the night before since we had to be out the door at 4am. And what's 4am after waking up at 10am (with 12 hours of sleep since wook was still recovering) and I fell asleep on the couch for an hour that afternoon? Child's play.
Flight to Chicago was quick. At least I think it was. I don't really remember. It's one of those puddle jumps that I zonked for maybe an hour. Missed the in-flight beverage, but that's okay.
Oh, Chicago. You kill me. As much as I love to avoid that void of all things timely, unfortunately Norfolk is a United hub also and Chicago just seems to be in the cards (unless I can book US Airlines from Frisco to Charlotte, etc.). But thank you for that 40 minute delay because we didn't have a plane. Knowing I had a 30 minute connect in Portland made me nervous. On the outside I was cool. But let's just say I wasn't hungry for that second PB&J I made.
At 12:30 I started wonder how far out we were from PDX. I was nervous. I was in Row 8, which is nice for a quick getaway...but how many elbows am I going to have to throw to get thru? Although I knew I had no responsibility for missing the flight, it would still suck to wait until 4:25pm to get the next flight to Medford. Where's the nearest bar in the terminal? I'm serious.
So we land at 12:45. Let's move people, let's move. There's still a little hope. "We've now reached PDX, the local time is "Hurry the hell up" (okay, that's what I was thinking), we'll be taxi-ing...blah blah blah." The time is still ticking away. 12:50. Good thing I have sneakers on so I can Jackie Joyner Kersey over these people. So as we finally get to our gate, the lady attendant makes an announcement.
"Due to some tight connections some passengers are facing. If you could please let them out first before you make your way out. The flight to Medford, they're holding for you."
NOOOO Wayyy!!! Really? That's me. Move it, people. No joke. There were people every 40 feet or so waving us on. I felt like I was running a marathon. The stripe to the finish line, oh so close. So walking as quickly as we could, all 10 or so of us made it aboard the sardine can of a plane to head home. Ya, we were like half the flight. I guess it pays to be from a small town where waiting an extra 5 minutes for the other half of the flight isn't so bad.
And as much as I want to relive the descent into Medford, let's not. It involves feeling the same way I did after I was talked onto California Screamin'. Let's just say I was a little green. "Don't puke...don't puke...don't puke."
posted by Mrs. Wookie at
11:53 AM
1 Comments:
and then you went home and ate Tillamook Cheese. Curse you! Ok, not really, because I love you.
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