All For Swinging You Around

I, Katy, hereby promise to never again take long walks while wearing Birkenstocks (tm), for three consecutive days.

Hurty ankles aside, let's move on. I suppose now would be a great time to summarize my Tucson trip, but due to many minor distractions that took place (way to go, Sabrina!), I've decided to resort to my standard photo update.Jenn Packer and myself during dinner with the guys on Sunday night. The first night being there was extremely awkward. The Jersey girls were "prim and proper" and a tad more superficial than I was expecting. And the moment the guys walked in, Rory, Isaiah and Mo, the tension was incredibly obvious. At the dinner table, I was stuck right in the middle between the sexual jokes constantly being spouted off on my right versus the automatic "ewws" coming from my left.

Monday night was Carrie and Marianne's housewarming party. In my very own selfish way, I was excited to observe drunken people and personality clashes. I was also secretly hoping for some crazy blunt verbal wars to bust out, but that, sadly, didn't happen.

Rory, being his buff-studded-self. Carrie on top, Arco on the left and Lane on the right. The yoga crew! As the party progressed, I took notice to yoga and acrobatics happening in the corner of the room. Cute. Drew, Elisa has pink hair, Suzi has orange hair and Claudia is very amusing.Speaking of Claudia, look at her go! I was also highly entertained with my attempts to explain to her that I live in Oregon rather than Arizona. This, of course, being after she had begged me to teach her how to play alto sax.


Our slow decent into alcoholism. . . Isaiah, Lane, Arco.
Isaiah. . . God? . . . Isaiah? . . .
Marianne, Jenn, Myself and Lane on top. I cleverly took advantage of Lane's buzz and drew a circle on his nose which quickly led to whiskers.




Brandy, Carrie, Myself, Jenn, Marianne and Yasminah. . . Before going out for sushi at Ra.




Before going out to Chili's on Thursday. I think we were all in that exhausted-silly state of mind.
Mo, Rory's brother/apprentice. . . "Drinking it sexy" as is a Chile's tradition.

I was dropped off at the Tucson airport at 1:00 and boarded at 2:30. The flight seemed alright, save the fact of having a window seat and being seated next to a relatively middle-aged couple who were over-zealous about dogs. In fact, the whole three hour trip from Tucson to Seattle consisted of them reading and discussing a pamphlet on dog training. Towards the end, they befriended our backside neighbors and talked about TV shows and sitcoms. I grinned and listened to my ipod and gazed out the window.

The plane landed. I had an hour and half to get to my flight to Portland, so I stopped for a newspaper and headed to the gate. The whole terminal ends up being packed with frustrated customers due to Horizon canceling a direct flight from Seattle to Eugene. So I waited in line while the people at the desks hesitantly booked the passengers on alternate flights. I made my way to the front only to find out that my flight to Portland was two hours delayed and because I had a 46 minute layover in Portland, I would end up missing my connecting flight. However, the people at the desk seemed to not recognize that and insisted that I'd have plenty of time to catch my connection flight. So I explained, slowly and surely, my situation until they finally understood what was going on. They searched for other flights only to realize that the flight I'd miss, would be the last flight to Eugene for the day.

So they ended up booking me on a flight to Portland that would leave at 7:00 PM rather than the delayed 8:30 PM. I chuckled and explained to them that I would STILL miss my connecting flight by 20 minutes, assuming that this flight wasn't delayed as well. And they reacted as expected, being overly reassuring that I'll "be okay".

Finally, a few other people trying to make their way to Eugene went up and complained about the same problem. After the employee's 430th call to Eugene and my 431th call home (I win), they settled with holding the plane so us three Eugeneians could catch our flight.

I made small talk with this attractive business guy, explaining what was going on. He had a nice smile and seemed to groom himself properly (something so underappreciated). We'd laugh at the stupidity of the employees and their lack of communication skills and talk about our day. Eventually, people around us joined in and we had a comfortable circle going.
One lady in white read crime scene novels. Had her glasses on the tip of her nose and insisted that the airlines are taking a fall. She was bitter but enjoyable.
A father and son snubbed us off. Grungy, pessimistic and couldn't even glance at each other.
A middle aged woman curled up while reading Harry Potter with her smiley boyfriend sitting close by.

The 7:00 flight was delayed 40 more minutes because they needed to change a tire. We end up boarding and leaving by 8:00 and I stared at my ticket knowing that my flight to Eugene was already boarding.

The business man and I jogged out of the terminal and rushed to our gate. But to keep the bad luck pattern flowing, the plane headed to Eugene hadn't arrived yet. I relaxed and looked around, seeing how Horizon had cancelled three other flights and the remaining ones were, at the minimum, two hours delayed. This obnoxious lady announced that a plane was struck by lightening, thus being the reason for all of the delays. Everyone in the terminal looked around and there was a nervous laugh that seemed to linger around. Thanks, lady, for making our upcoming flight comfortable.

The business man and a group of three others took off to rent a car. I suppose driving a couple of hours isn't too bad in comparison to what was going on. I would've hopped along with them, though I'm sure my parents would'nt've approved of their teenage daughter riding in a car full of men. Sigh, darnit!

Anyways, we end up boarding the small, 9 row plane two hours later than the time I should've been at home.

I arrived in Eugene at 11:50 PM. I should've been sleeping.


No I'm not finished!
So throughout this long, miserable day, I had a lot of time to think. And while doing so, the only explanation as to why my returning trips are always a disaster, is simply because God hates Oregon. Let's remember other returning trip disasters:

First Tucson trip, 2004. I was stuck between a Russian tourist-y couple. The woman had a noticeable beard going on and really became attached to my right shoulder. Her husband's breath smelt like mold and stale coffee. Terrible.

Family reunion, 2004 in Chicago. While coming home, our flight out of O'Hara airport was so backed up, that we had to stay the night in Las Vegas. Mmm cigarette smoke and the sweet, sweet sound of slot machines all. night. long.

Third Tucson trip during New Years. Similar scenario to the most recent one. Left Tucson to San Fran. San Fran delayed, telling me I wouldn't get home. Finally made it to LA where they said I wouldn't get home. And of course, I made it home. This situation was definitely worse-er in comparison to the other because I was forced to bum a cell phone off of random strangers only to listen to my mom bitch about how she couldn't do anything about it.

New York, one month ago. For six hours, I was slammed up against the window, entire body shifted. This 19, 20 year old girl, BIG girl, sat in the middle. Her thigh took up half of my seat and she went thru an entire pack of cotton candy bubble gum, jolly rancher suckers and tore pages out of magazines for scrapbooking. Better yet, she rambled on about how she just got out of rehab. Excellent!


Clearly God is holding a grudge.