I was up early as it was a travel day. Sleep was troubled with one break for proof of hydration. My colon was also back, demanding some attention with late-night requirements. After the loss of 25 cm of my colon to cancer, I have trouble knowing when things are ready, and if I am not taking extra breaks, I find myself with sudden, often middle-of-the-night events. With all the packing and getting ready for my long, almost three-week trip, I had not been careful enough.
It was difficult to rise, but I had a 7:05 Uber car reservation, and I started at 6:30. I rushed, but I was mostly packed, and only the Apple and my hairbrush needed to be added to my carry-on red gym Nike bag. I forgot to replenish my biz cards and have none to give out. That is too bad, as I had multiple opportunities to give them out on the plane and in the waiting area.
My Uber was five minutes late. I had my luggage in the street as the meeting location was mid-street and not at the house. It was strange to have no vehicle at the house, now returning to its original name, Chateau Wild. Soon, Uber arrived, a Tesla. I learned there was a nice trunk on these models and relearned the mystery of Tesla door handles.
Soon, I was on the MAX after waiting seven minutes for a Red Line train to the Airport, PDX. There was another gal on the train with luggage. It was the usual silence of headphones and earbuds with little eye contact you find on most subways and buses now. I read Analog, a SciFi magazine, reading a physical copy. I finished the story of a union meeting voting to continue the alliance in the union of AI, called instances, and other workers. It seemed like a version of the recent election and politics set in the near future when artificial intelligences join the workforce. I enjoyed the novelette “The Compromise” by Tom R. Pike.
The ride was about ninety minutes, and I arrived as planned at about 8:30. I started the walking. Airports are about walking now. My day would include more than 8,000 steps. I found the bag check for Delta in the lovely and newly rebuilt terminal, printed off my $35 tag, attached it to my bag, remembered to take my phone used to scan the boarding barcode, and handed it over to a friendly agent who also viewed by driver’s license, a Real ID, that cost an extra $100.
To get a Real ID requires you to bring additional proof of your address and birth (or US citizenship) and pay extra when updating your state-issued driver’s license at the DMV. I see it as a version of a poll tax and a political means to have all Americans carry ‘papers.’ I think it is awful, Facist, unnecessary, but I complied.
My colon decided it wanted more attention, and I spent some time in the restroom attending to its needs.
Security was a short process, with the new machines already looking worn and the machines requiring a patdown for my arms. My hat was, as usual, worn and then hand-checked by an officer. My Real ID was scanned, and a photo was taken compared to the measurements and images supplied by my Real ID. The photo, which passed, according to the sign, was then deleted. Now, the cameras in the area are a different story…
I put back on my belt and shoes and headed to breakfast near my gate. Grassa is a local pasta chain, but they make breakfast here in PDX in the morning, which was terrific. I had a breakfast sandwich after asking the staff what they liked. That and coffee was an excellent start now that I was on the other side of security. I completed the blog and posted it.
I was surprised that Grassa had more choices for drinks than food, fitting our unique thinking in greater Portland. Once it was 10, the lunch/dinner menu was put up. I spoke to the manager when I saw that the prices were reasonable. Fifteen bucks for spaghetti and meatballs with freshly made pasta is a good deal in an airport–pretty good anywhere. I was told that PDX requires all prices to match the street price. This was more proof that we do better things at PDX.
Soon, I was on my plane, having stopped once more at the restroom, but my colon was still grumbling when I boarded. I had the window seat and sat next to a couple returning to Baltimore after going to an event for event companies. Yes, it is an event event. Alden and I talked on and off the five hours of travel time. He gave me his card. I also met Mary Ann in the boarding area, and she was interested in my blog (again, my biz cards would have been lovely to have), and she looked it up. Thanks!
The flight was the usual experience with water, Ginger Ale, and coffee. I watched the How the Universe Works show from Discovery with a warning that it may not be appropriate for children. I was expecting this meant that the science would include a profane version of Bill Nye. No, it was flashy, well-done science covering cosmology and the state of knowledge in 2021–nothing scary or profane. It was f**king good and nothing to protect children from. Yikes!
Soon, I headed out with Alden and friend headed to their next flight. I found the baggage claim after yet another visit to the restroom. I was then redirected from 10 baggage claim to 1, more steps, and soon acquired my bag. Next, I found Hertz, and after a short bus ride, took any car in the Gold section (I signed in online and provided everything ahead of time). I picked a Kia Sportage as it looked ready for snow. I passed by the white ones, as that never seems the best color for winter in Michigan. One I first liked had a dead bird next to it; I decided not to risk that one (cursed or just strange). Soon, I was headed around in circles as my CarPlay directions were set to a multiple-stop trip (how?), and soon I pulled over and corrected the mistake after visiting the DTW a second time, f**k.
The trip was exciting as it was dark, the rain turned to snow, and I had 50 minutes of driving to learn a new car with snow and new places. Michigan drivers are aggressive and fast. Fast means 80+ here. This is not some car trying to reach 35, like in Portland; this is where cars are born and driven at those top speeds on busy roads. I stayed in the slow lane! Soon, I was up to 85 on the Kia. Everyone slowed; this is Michigan, and wet, slick roads mean everyone slowed to a safe 60 when we passed two spun-out cars loaded up for an insurance-filled holiday.
I found the hotel, and I will stop there. I was safe and fine at the hotel.
Thanks for reading.
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 