Once again we are picked up by Hailey and whisked away to the airport. This year, the flight time was late enough that we could swing by and enjoy breakfast at our favorite hole-in-the-wall in Portland, the Cameo Cafe. If you have never been to this place, try and go on a Saturday or Sunday morning. There is a cast of characters here worthy of a movie musical (that will probably get written some day). We had time to hang with Sue Gee, the owner, a bit, and enjoy the morning special. It was, as always, a wonderful way to start a trip.
We had an interesting moment this year going through our security vetting at PDX. I breezed through (uncommon, I usually have too much stuff in my pockets and forget something), and Z did not (also uncommon - she has a purse!). They held her on the other side of the scanner and asked me if it would be OK if they scanned her carry-on again. Weird, but sure, why not? They turned it sideways, ran it again, and then let Z through. The nice TSA lady, Dorian, asked us, as she opened the bag to look for the urn, if we "were carrying the ashes of an ex or someone?" We had a nice laugh, as we discovered that spices look the same as ashes in a carry-on. Yes, we travel with spices - don't you?
Continuing our, now long standing, tradition of running into folks at the airport as we leave town, we ran into an old acquaintance from college days in Eugene while waiting for the plane. Ken is also in the ed-biz, and filled us in with horror stories of budget cuts and layoffs in 4-J. As always, the good stewarts of the Eugene school system seem to be trying to outdo everyone in the state of Oregon for the madness of their proceedings.
Forgive me while I rant for a minute. 4-J is cutting some of thier most veteran and successful music teachers, shoving as many as 65 people into an auditorium and asking some poor sod to teach algebra to them (without assistance, of course) - what are they thinking? 4-J is supposed to be one of the most competitive school systems in the state, and it has come to this? Why do the kids even bother to show up? I'm sure they would find things better at their local charter school - oh, wait...
*****
Our seat row numbers from Chicago to Frankfurt - 42 - allowed me endless opportunities to run the old saw into the ground:
Z: "The old guy sitting next to me on the flight from Portland said I was the nicest, cutest thing."
Me, pointing at the row number sign: "That's 'cuz this trip is the answer."
And so on...
We also learned on this leg (not that we didn't know this already), that it really pays to have an attractive, single female row mate on the window side if you have a male Stew (What else do you call them? They're not stewardesses.). For example, Z and the shy single girl both want pasta for dinner. The Stew says, "we're out, but wait a moment. I'll see what I can do." A minute later, suprise! - two pasta dinners. Actually, if nothing else, watching the flirting was good harmless entertainment.
*****
Many of you who know us, know that Z and I consider marriage to have a lot of similarities to the movie "Big, Fat Greek Wedding" - just substitute palinka for Windex. You, then, would understand how hard I laughed to walk into Peter and Vera's apartment in Niedernhall to find a Bundt cake with a flower in it sitting on the table. Opa!
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