I slept on and off all night, as is usual for a travel day. I finally rose about sunrise, started to pack, and began the blog. Check-out time was at 11, and my car was due at the airport at the same time, but it is only 40 minutes to the St Louis Airport. I had put out my clothing and steamed them in the bathroom to remove the wrinkles while I made coffee using the strange device that required me to push the button many times to get a cup.
I put away the blog for now, then showered and all that, dressed, and finished packing. I took the laptop with me and headed to the hotel, Good Press, for breakfast. I had scrambled eggs, potatoes, crispy bacon, and toast. This time, better fare. There was a conference at the hotel, and there soon was a line. I sat at a larger table, using just a corner, while another person used the other corner. I had not sat in that area before and discovered that the ceiling was a kaleidoscopic work of color, with black and red as the dominant hues, with many melted or flowing structures. I thought it was not for folks with hangovers (I was fine having only one drink the night before).
With breakfast done and approaching just about 10, I returned to my room to gather my stuff. There was a knock, and the staff reminded me to check out. I tried not to be annoyed, but I suspect some folks need that little push, and soon I was in the lobby with my bags and checked out. The place was busy with the conference, and the dress standard was high today (I was in a dress shirt and a vest). I got my car, the white Buick I had spent too much money on, but I was unsure if I would be driving on this trip. But the locals agreed you need a car to see the mounds, and later learned that there is a reconstructed French Fort and village in the same area. Next time!
Which brings me to, “What do you think?” Well, downtown is empty, sad, and, while not unsafe, not that comfortable. There are many buildings that are relics and falling apart. Do the arc and the river, and leave it. Forest Park, the associated museums, and the connected neighborhoods, Central West End, were happy, filled with things to do, and seemed alive. The medical schools and universities are there. There is an Indigo Hotel in that area. I would use it next time. Public transit works, and I felt safe when using it. The endless stairs and uneven sidewalks (even new ones) suggest that the city does not get it when it comes to folks who use walkers or canes. But I saw lots of folks in powered chairs, and so maybe the world is changing, and that is less of an issue. I saw that the curbs have now been cut away from the corners, allowing such conveyances to be safe to cross streets.
I would like to visit again in the fall. I am thinking I need a trip to the south sometime. Maybe St Louis, Montgomery, Columbus (Georgia), and New Orleans. But there is a trip to Brazil (still a maybe) and July with Deborah and friends in Michigan.
I took the car back to the airport and remembered that I had to gas it up. I then drove a large circle in St. Louis because the number of gas stations and other helpful places is limited in the area I was in. It is the Rust Belt in its final, failing form — no services, not even a 7-Eleven. Finally found a gas station using Nav and driving a few miles, added just a gallon and a half, and then drove again in a strange circle, touring the ruins (with a few bright spots of hope and renewal). I then found my way, using Nav, to the highway and drove thirty minutes to the general location of the rental car return. The signs stopped, and I found myself driving through strip mall-lined roads, and the Nav was getting quite confused. But Budget (I looked up who I was renting from this time before heading there), and the other car places had large signs, and soon I found where I needed to be. It was a strange trip with strange shifting roads. Note to travelers: St. Louis rental car return is f**ked up beyond recognition.|
I found Delta, and my bag was on its way soon. Security was a bit strange. There was one agent, and the Pre-Check purchase was getting two people from the general line. The TSA guy looked unhappy with the arrangement. I am not a fan of corporate welfare and the special treatment of the Pre-Check folks, which did not make me safer or make my line go faster, seemed like a corporate gimmick to sell a product I did not think we should have in security lines: freebies. I was through security with only one delay of waiting for Pre-Check. My carry-on was passed, and my suspenders checked. The TSA did comment on how nice my hat was. I thanked him for the compliment and for his service. I always thank the TSA folks.
I had just under four hours to spend, and I wrote the blog with the laptop on my knees. Grammarly and I were not working well together, and I found many typos after I published it. It seemed to change things outside of just spelling. I must have selected ‘Confirm’ too often. Time seemed to disappear today as I wrote and read.
I met a nice older woman who was my waiter at Budweiser Brewhouse, which was across from my gate. She talked about her experiences with her family and how we are both trying to make it go. She has five kids. I shared with Deborah about my trips and how retirement has been good. It was not very busy, and it was nice to just chat. I ordered a Bud ($9 at the airport) and a BBQ pork sandwich that was quite good (I ate it open-faced). I always eat when I can, as you never know when something will go wrong on a trip (the “Tornado Shelter” sign on the Men’s Room doorway being an example). I also thought I should have at least one Bud while in St. Louis. It was nice and went well with the sandwich and fries (There was an amazing $9 up-charge for a side salad — WTF, I stayed with the fries). I returned to the High Fantasy book using my iPhone as a Kindle reader:
My flight from St. Louis was the usual, with the seat’s digital screen displaying my name. I logged in and continued with my previous movies. Love Delta things like this.
I finished the second Wicked movie and cried. I returned to my reading after that. I tried another movie, but it had sex scenes and strange violence, and I decided that would not work for me on a plane. The folks who sat next to me ignored me and seemed unfriendly.
The last hour of the flight, the plane seemed more like a tennis game, and we were the ball, not the racket. I put on my hat (Indiana Jones style) and turned up the music in my ear (only one works), closed my eyes with my hat over my face, and found the plane often bounced with the music. I ignored it all.
The plane landed ten minutes early, and I was just behind Comfort, deplaned with speed, and soon was rushing my usual walk from somewhere on B to the last f**king gate on A6. I connect to this flight often. My usual plane trip at Salt Lake City Airport lasts less than forty minutes; I walked down the escalators and quickly walked the 0.7 mile. I also upgraded to Comfort. Free booze!
My rings on my watch were ecstatic (though I did miss the standing goal; I sat most of the day). I was early, and the middle seat was empty. Others were pulled from Comfort to First. The nearly two-hour flight was comfortable, and I got ginger ale to go wtih some bourbon. I read that this time the plane ride was smooth (until we started to land, when the river updraft and mountains made a mess of the air).
I found the new exit doors (yes, they have changed PDX again) and beat my bag to baggage claim, but it soon arrived. I rolled to the Max and spent $2.80 to pass through Portland to Beaverton in about an hour. Cheap and often faster than the traffic. There was a person screaming on the Max for a few stops. She left the train, apparently disgusted with the world and the lack of support from her fellow Max riders. I just read.
Corwin picked me up in my car at the Max station and drove me home. It was excellent to be home. Corwin and I then head out, me driving (and slightly confused where the buttons and shifters were as I had been driving various other cars the previous week). We ended up at Zen Sushi in the nearby strip mall. The other place we tried was closed (and looked like it would remain that way). It was close to closing, and the track was nearly empty. We ordered three rolls, and Corwin hit the track a few times. Our waiter suggested the roll named after the restaurant, and it was excellent. Full of raw fish, tea, and soup, I returned home, said good night to Corwin, and soon was in bed, leaving the laundry to Thursday. I soon slept.
Thanks for reading.
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 