our adventure took us from the northern extreme of Seattle, south to the Stout redwood grove of northern California. we found ourselves encountering arch rock, caverns, and the west coast sunset. perhaps the more adventuresome side came calling earlier than anticipated, but we had one last hike to the top of “The Watchman.” this 8,025 ft peak on the Mt. Mazama caldera towers over the neighboring areas. in retrospect this may have been the cause.
finding ourselves refreshed from the descent of switchbacks, a glance at the watch had us snapping into our silver rental and hauling ass back toward Portland. “Eric assured me it was a four hour drive,” we now had just over four and one half hours to maneuver mountain roads, narrow bridges, and over 270 miles of unknown terrain.
a magic mix of ass hauling & curiously quick detours had us arriving at PDX sparing no less than 15 minutes before departure. a quick joyous celebration of chest bumping was followed by luggage being tossed onto the pavement. i then strode with confidence that we had accomplished the impossible.
Delta has the reputation for superior service and quality. this was illustrated by the registration host who stumbled over the counter, quickly recovering to assist me with the automated kiosk. “we’ve partnered with Alaskan air for this flight, they’re just down the terminal.” making my way toward the other counter i noticed the slight shin throbbing that was inflamed by the intense use of toe muscles to maintain sandal adherence… but i digress.
greeting the Alaskan ticket troll she asked if i was flying to Seattle tonight. “no mam I’m headed to Birmingham via Los Angeles.” turning over my itinerary her sneer quickly turned into a snarl, “this flight has already left.”
now i might describe her posturing, eye movement, and other end-of shift symptoms, but this woman was a real horrid monster. mam, the scheduled departure time is 8:55, the status board reports flight 9091 as ON-TIME, meaning i still have 12 minutes before departure.” now i didn’t necessarily yell at the delinquently tempered counter agent, but there was a definite tone to my dialogue. she responded very simply with, “your not getting on this plane.” her posturing was matter-of-fact with no argument available.
in times of solidarity one has limited options for rebellion. perhaps not so much rebellion, but i sure as shit was going to annoy the piss out of this circus cunt. now i find that profanity used in moderation can be quite a release. asking for a supervisor and causing a scene as i attacked this woman’s fertility was another matter. as the stream of profanity flowed from my lips i found myself surrounded by some rather stern looking gentlemen in blue shirts. no one could explain how the TSA has jurisdiction over unconfirmed passengers, but the message was clear… i was NOT departing Portland that night.
later, in the distance, shouts of: slut of a whore, circus cunt, troll fuck, and other marvelous expletives (far too creative to capture here) were audible, somewhere near the taxi paddock.
i did get a flight the next day, and i did manage to enjoy the red eye back to my city… i say that I’m in Phoenix finishing the first 3 hour layover, i may write again.
