Have Gun Will Travel
These are transcriptions from my notes from 8/28/06
8/28/06 7:30pm EDT
Seattle-Tacoma Airport, Gate N12
En Route to Portland, OR
We actually saw parts of Seattle today. The Aquarium was definitely something to be reckoned with. It was odd after an entire week in beautiful, boring Bellevue to see things like rusty cars and homeless people. The homeless in Seattle are some of the best-looking and healthiest homeless I have ever seen. They appear to be rather well-fed and none of them looked particularly like your run-of-the-mill East Coast-style Bum. Then again, I also didn't see any run-of-the-mill East Coast-style slums either. They either hide them well, or else what Seattle considers a slum isn't what you would consider a slum in places like Detroit, Buffalo, New York or Washington DC. Everything seemed shiny and corporate, and it kind of freaked me out a bit.
One of the cabbies today tried to tell us that Seattle has the worst police force in the US. I really find that hard to believe, especially after growing up in Detroit and Flint, where I could watch cops dealing cocaine and heroin out the passenger windows of squad cars back in the 1980's.
So now it's off to Portland, with an hour-plus layover, and then on to Chicago for another three-plus hour layover and then finally a 90-minute jaunt home. I guess this beats the 7+ hours on the plane from Dulles. That was just way too much time in one seat. I guess that's kind of odd for me to say, since I spend 9 to 10 hours a day, five days a week sitting in the same seat at work. Maybe it's just the fact that at work I can get up if I have to, and on a plane, you're at the mercy of the seatbelt sign.
I think I see our plane. Oh great, it's a turbo prop. I feel safe. No, really.
8/28/06 10:05pm EDT
Portland, OR en route to Chicago
Okay, so the turbo prop plane wasn't so bad after all. At least I was sitting next to my wife this time around. She was nervous, but I found it more comfortable and less noisy than those smaller jets, like the one I took from Buffalo to Dulles. It's the same chassis, but the engines aren't as loud. There's always that constant hum, but at least it isn't the ear-busting blast and whine of the jet engines.
Sitting on the tarmack, waiting to taxi out to the runway, my wife grabs my hand really tight and says, "I don't like the idea of us flying in this thing. The propellors make me nervous."
"We'll be fine. They were flying prop planes before there were jets."
"I know, but I was in a Cessna once, and I swear, the engine sounded like it was going to die whenever we hit a cross-wind."
"Well, this one will be just fine. Besides, it's a turbo-prop plane, so there's nothing to worry about."
"Oh okay. What does that mean, anyway?"
"I have no idea. But it sure sounded convincing, didn't it?"
That loosened her up enough so that she could relax and enjoy our 45 minute flight to Portland.
Not much to see in Portland at this time of night. Everything is pitch black, even on the roads outside the terminal. One day, we'll have to come back and see Portland in the daylight.
Right now, I really want a sandwich.
8/29/06 5:00am CDT
Chicago O'Hare Airport en route to Buffalo
Slept almost the entire way here. Because of our bookings being separate, we ended up on opposite ends of the plane. My wife was in the back, and I was somewhere in the middle. Next to me were two college-age kids. One was a young, blonde Sophomore girl, and the other was a young, Indian or Pakistani Freshman. I will never forget how to say his name, because he explained it to the poor girl at least a dozen times. "My name is Nanbahtu. Is spelled N-A-N but sounds like Nun, like the religious womens. Nun and then Bahtu. Nanbahtu. Starts out like Nun..."
Great, kid. But she really isn't interested. She was making small talk just to be polite. Please shut up now, Unkle Pk needs his anti-grumpy rest. Didn't even make it through the safety video. I remember the part about the seatbelts, but I think I was out by the time they reached the oxygen masks. Next thing I knew, it was the end of the in-flight movie, which I don't think I could identify with a police line-up and a dowsing rod. Another shit action movie, I know that much. Lisa said she didn't sleep much on the flight, because the little girl in the seat next to her kept kicking in her sleep.
All I know is that the people at O'Hare are a bunch of dirty liars. On their website, they have a whole mess of 24-hour places to eat. But there's not a damn one of them here. I had the shittiest bagel in my life just now. It tasted more like moist Wonder bread than a bagel, and had the substance of a spitwad. You'd think Chicago would have enough Jews in it to at least have decent fucking bagels.
I have decided that flying at night is the way to go. We were in and out of the security checkpoint in five minutes. No lines, no hassles, no idiots who don't understand what the sign that says, "no sharp objects, gels or bottled water allowed beyond this point." No screaming children, no businessmen reeking of BRUT. Also, the plane doesn't get warmer as the flight goes on. It stays at a nice, even temperature for the most part, since the sun isn't beating down on the fuselage. Just perfect for those in-flight naps. That and the layovers are far easier on the legs, back and ass.
In a few hours, we'll be home again. It doesn't matter where you go and to what exciting, exotic locales you may wander to, you always feel better going home. Now maybe I can get some rest before I have to return to work.
8/28/06 7:30pm EDT
Seattle-Tacoma Airport, Gate N12
En Route to Portland, OR
We actually saw parts of Seattle today. The Aquarium was definitely something to be reckoned with. It was odd after an entire week in beautiful, boring Bellevue to see things like rusty cars and homeless people. The homeless in Seattle are some of the best-looking and healthiest homeless I have ever seen. They appear to be rather well-fed and none of them looked particularly like your run-of-the-mill East Coast-style Bum. Then again, I also didn't see any run-of-the-mill East Coast-style slums either. They either hide them well, or else what Seattle considers a slum isn't what you would consider a slum in places like Detroit, Buffalo, New York or Washington DC. Everything seemed shiny and corporate, and it kind of freaked me out a bit.
One of the cabbies today tried to tell us that Seattle has the worst police force in the US. I really find that hard to believe, especially after growing up in Detroit and Flint, where I could watch cops dealing cocaine and heroin out the passenger windows of squad cars back in the 1980's.
So now it's off to Portland, with an hour-plus layover, and then on to Chicago for another three-plus hour layover and then finally a 90-minute jaunt home. I guess this beats the 7+ hours on the plane from Dulles. That was just way too much time in one seat. I guess that's kind of odd for me to say, since I spend 9 to 10 hours a day, five days a week sitting in the same seat at work. Maybe it's just the fact that at work I can get up if I have to, and on a plane, you're at the mercy of the seatbelt sign.
I think I see our plane. Oh great, it's a turbo prop. I feel safe. No, really.
8/28/06 10:05pm EDT
Portland, OR en route to Chicago
Okay, so the turbo prop plane wasn't so bad after all. At least I was sitting next to my wife this time around. She was nervous, but I found it more comfortable and less noisy than those smaller jets, like the one I took from Buffalo to Dulles. It's the same chassis, but the engines aren't as loud. There's always that constant hum, but at least it isn't the ear-busting blast and whine of the jet engines.
Sitting on the tarmack, waiting to taxi out to the runway, my wife grabs my hand really tight and says, "I don't like the idea of us flying in this thing. The propellors make me nervous."
"We'll be fine. They were flying prop planes before there were jets."
"I know, but I was in a Cessna once, and I swear, the engine sounded like it was going to die whenever we hit a cross-wind."
"Well, this one will be just fine. Besides, it's a turbo-prop plane, so there's nothing to worry about."
"Oh okay. What does that mean, anyway?"
"I have no idea. But it sure sounded convincing, didn't it?"
That loosened her up enough so that she could relax and enjoy our 45 minute flight to Portland.
Not much to see in Portland at this time of night. Everything is pitch black, even on the roads outside the terminal. One day, we'll have to come back and see Portland in the daylight.
Right now, I really want a sandwich.
8/29/06 5:00am CDT
Chicago O'Hare Airport en route to Buffalo
Slept almost the entire way here. Because of our bookings being separate, we ended up on opposite ends of the plane. My wife was in the back, and I was somewhere in the middle. Next to me were two college-age kids. One was a young, blonde Sophomore girl, and the other was a young, Indian or Pakistani Freshman. I will never forget how to say his name, because he explained it to the poor girl at least a dozen times. "My name is Nanbahtu. Is spelled N-A-N but sounds like Nun, like the religious womens. Nun and then Bahtu. Nanbahtu. Starts out like Nun..."
Great, kid. But she really isn't interested. She was making small talk just to be polite. Please shut up now, Unkle Pk needs his anti-grumpy rest. Didn't even make it through the safety video. I remember the part about the seatbelts, but I think I was out by the time they reached the oxygen masks. Next thing I knew, it was the end of the in-flight movie, which I don't think I could identify with a police line-up and a dowsing rod. Another shit action movie, I know that much. Lisa said she didn't sleep much on the flight, because the little girl in the seat next to her kept kicking in her sleep.
All I know is that the people at O'Hare are a bunch of dirty liars. On their website, they have a whole mess of 24-hour places to eat. But there's not a damn one of them here. I had the shittiest bagel in my life just now. It tasted more like moist Wonder bread than a bagel, and had the substance of a spitwad. You'd think Chicago would have enough Jews in it to at least have decent fucking bagels.
I have decided that flying at night is the way to go. We were in and out of the security checkpoint in five minutes. No lines, no hassles, no idiots who don't understand what the sign that says, "no sharp objects, gels or bottled water allowed beyond this point." No screaming children, no businessmen reeking of BRUT. Also, the plane doesn't get warmer as the flight goes on. It stays at a nice, even temperature for the most part, since the sun isn't beating down on the fuselage. Just perfect for those in-flight naps. That and the layovers are far easier on the legs, back and ass.
In a few hours, we'll be home again. It doesn't matter where you go and to what exciting, exotic locales you may wander to, you always feel better going home. Now maybe I can get some rest before I have to return to work.