In Portland, I've been taking the Max - light rail from the airport to downtown. It lets me off two blocks from my client, environmentally friendly, and I don't have to battle Avis or Portland's downtown construction. So at 3:11 p.m., I hopped the red line back to the airport.
Five blocks later comes the announcement - offloading at the next stop, transferring to buses, rerouting to another stop on the blue line to avoid a "police action", and then transferring back onto the red line.
Normally I would panic and get really stressed. I want to get home to the kids and my bed. I want to sit in my primo seat I got. I want to get to the airport and not feel rushed. And everyone else was starting to freak out.
Today I chose to accept the fact that I'd put myself in the hands of public transportation and it would all work out. Fast forward - I get to the gate with 20 minutes to spare before departure, and find out the flight is delayed an hour anyway.
Good thing I didn't get my blood pressure up for that non-event.
On a side note, public transportation is always great for people watching. I saw . . .
- Wanna-be coke whore. Can't afford coke. Substitutes diet pills, cold medicine, and cigarettes . . . a few science credits shy of starting her own meth lab.
- Blue-sweat pants guy. Dresses and looks like a 12-year old in a 6'4", 280 lb. frame. Actual quote - "Look Bill, police cars!" Maturity does not appear to be based on any actual disorder, just general unaware-ness.
- Wanna-be Eminem. Same hair cut, pseudo-bad-ass attitude. Asking for $.50 for food - skip the blonde hair dye and hair gel and you could buy a sandwich.
- Friend of the environment. Carrying shopping items in re-usable cloth bag (been used, many times), wearing earth shoes (essentially, non-trendy Crocs) and hemp clothing, hasn't bathed in a day or two (saves water), B.O. slightly masked by scent of compost and pot?
- Nervous business man. Too Republican for Friend of the Environment, wants to make sure W-B Eminem doesn't steal his wallet, thinks he's going to miss his plane, staring at my suit like its a beacon of sanity. Little does he know . . .
- Old hippy guy. Scraggly ponytail, talking too loud, carrying libary books (Simply Einstein?) . . . smells like booze. Can't figure out if this is part of his parole arrangement, or if he just likes to read before starting the night shift down at the local bowling alley.
- Student girl. Doesn't see any cute guys. Wishes she could afford a car. I-Pod headphones sticking out of her backpack and leaving little white trails to her ears. Has tuned us out.
- And Mrs. Chako
All in all, a weird crew.
Hey, the flight might be boarding - wish me luck getting home.