This blog entry, my first in weeks because of various projects of which I am in the middle, but it started off as just an email to my pal Greg that I would be flying out of Portland on Wednesday morning, which he knew. But “morning” in this case meant “12:30 AM.” (He, of course, was quite gracious, as expected.) So here’s the email in full … it got so involved I was like, “This would make a good blog post!” Please keep in mind that “good” is in the mind of the blogreader, and also it is a relative term. One person’s “good” may be a hoity-toity type’s “bad.”
Also, the word “bad” might be used to denote “good,” depending on the ’70s.
Well, I’m glad I looked at this itinerary, Greg, since I will be flying out not just early but EARRRRRRRRRRLY (12:30 AM) on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. I don’t know if the trains to the airport are still running that late, but hell, if they aren’t, they SHOULD, amirite?
Then, in what seems for me to be the year of lots of Texas, I have a layover in Dallas (home of the Irving Cowboys) for just long enough not to be able to snooze before I get back on a new plane—or maybe the same plane after airing out my flatulence. (I’ve bean many places.)
Finally, at 11:14 AM, I arrive into my buddy Conner’s welcoming bosom—um, wait—I mean, into the welcoming humid bosom of Fort Lauderdale, named for Florida’s early settler hero, Jimmy Fort.